Misplaced Revenge
by lordtrayus
Summary: Walt and Roy, the hunters who killed Sam and Dean, are back, and want to murder Sam and Dean for their role in setting the Leviathans loose on the world. When Sam is kidnapped by the rogue hunters who want to kill him, Dean has to find him before Walt and Roy murder his brother again. But memories of last time affect the boys and leave them vulnerable as Walt shows his true colours
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural**

Misplaced Revenge

The hunt had been a complete success. The ghost had been shot, salted and burned, all in a couple of hours after three day's worth of work. Sam and Dean were on their fourth successful hunt, and Sam had never felt better.

They'd had a trying few weeks. Sam had been locked up in a mental hospital due to his visions of Lucifer. Dean, the dutiful big brother, had gone out and found a person to fix him. The thing was, the person was Castiel.

While Sam knew his brother was furious that Cas was still alive, and wanted nothing more than to rip the angel to shreds with his bare hands for what he had done to Sam by destroying his wall, Sam couldn't find it in his heart to hate Cas as much as Dean did. Yeah, sure, he was seriously pissed, just like he had been with Dean when he had nearly killed him a few months before. But Cas had saved him, taken his insanity into his own mind, at great cost, and now Sam was, well, free. Lucifer wasn't in his head. The fires of Hell and the cage, while they still hurt to remember, didn't burn anymore. He could still remember everything, but now, it was all different. Lucifer wasn't there, torturing him, driving him completely crazy, making him doubt everything from if his shoes were tied the right way to being out of the cage at all. He was free. He had Dean back, and it was just the two of them, on the road again, swatting down ghosts and demons willy nilly. And while Sam knew he shouldn't feel that way, considering someone who had once been virtually a brother before he had gone insane, proclaimed himself God, broke Sam's wall, and unleashed the Leviathans on the world, he was the happiest he'd been in years.

While Dean was seriously pissed about Cas, he was ecstatic that his brother was sane again, and was being a model big brother. The Leviathans, while they knew they were up to something, were miles away, and he and Sam had been doing what it was that they do best: ganking nasties, just like in the old days.

This one had been interesting. A ranch owner had had something killing his cows, and at first, he had assumed that they were nothing more than other farmers. But when other farmers had shown up dead, throats slashed open and insides spilling out, he had started to get worried, and Sam and Dean had picked up on the case.

However, the town they had come to was a small town in the Nevada desert called El Quebrados, and was quite religious. So, that had led Dean and Sam to doing something they hadn't done for years: impersonating priests. As a result, they had gotten in, found out what they were doing, and had ganked the ghost of the farmhand who had loved the owner's daughter, but had been killed by a rival for her affections. As soon as they were back in the car, their choice of the week being a vintage Perennial, Dean was laughing as he took off the dog collar.

"Wooh, that was just like old times huh Sammy?" he asked, running his hand through his combed fringe to give his spikes back again.

Sam looked at him enviously. Dean had insisted that he look the part, and as such he had liberal amounts of gel in his hair, which was now slicked back and to the side. He couldn't get free of his hairstyle until he got back to the motel they were staying at, something that was annoying him a little. He preferred his hair natural, and long about his face, not packed with gel.

"Yeah. And neither of us got so much as a bruise from the ghost, so I call that a pretty good day." He said, taking a newspaper out of the bag and opening it as Dean drove down the desert road.

Dean groaned.

"Aww Sammy, come on, you can look for a new case tomorrow, we deserve tonight off!" he protested, and Sam grinned.

"Yeah we can. I'm checking the scores from last night, seeing as someone stole a car without a working radio." He teased, and Dean glowered.

"You stole a Ford Anglia, cut me some slack." He grumbled.

"At least it had stereo." Sam said in a sing song voice, and Dean once more glared at him, making him snigger.

"Bite me." He retorted childishly as they approached the town.

The motel was just on the outskirts, in small tepee style huts, and Dean rolled the old car into the parking lot, and immediately shot out of the car, leaving Sam to pick everything up.

"Don't worry, I'll tidy up after you! Slob." He grunted in irritation as he shut the door and entered the room.

And then it occurred to him exactly what Dean had done. To get back at Sam for baiting him in the car, Dean had run into the shower, and was now using all the hot water.

"Dean! Jerk!" Sam yelled angrily, and he could hear Dean laughing on the other side of the door, complete with running water.

"Yeah, I know, but you love me really. You snooze you lose bro!" he taunted, safe as he had locked the door.

Sam vowed to himself that he would get revenge on Dean later. Cursing Dean, he began to change out of his priest costume and into his usual jeans and shirt. It would take ages for the water to heat up again. Not wanting to wait around the room for an hour with a smug and victorious Dean while he waited for the water to warm up again, he decided to go to the garage to get them some food.

"Dean, do you want anything from the shop?" he called, interrupting his brother, who was for reasons best known to himself, singing 'Baby' by Justin Bieber.

"Bring me pie!" came the predictable, ecstatic response, and Sam shook his head in amusement as he headed out.

The place was covered in red sand, but it was a short walk to the garage, over a bridge that was placed over a lagoon. Ignoring the two cars that went past, Sam couldn't wait to get back for a shower. The entire place made him feel grimy and dirty, and his hair was making it worse. Once more cursing his brother, Sam entered the garage shop, and began picking things up for their meal that night. When it came to the aisle where the pies were kept, Sam strongly considered not getting him any, as revenge for stealing the shower. But, he was his brother, and ever since Dillimore, their relationship had never been better, so he consented himself with an apple pie for Dean.

Deciding to browse the shelves for magazines and other food, he didn't look up as a truck pulled up outside, disgorging two men. Sam bent down to pick up some fruit (Dean would call him a wuss but he would just remind his brother who was addicted to banana milkshakes), and was about to stand up when the door opened.

"I'm telling you Roy, that thing wasn't like anything we've ever faced before." A hard, deep voice came, and Sam froze in panic.

Walt and Roy. It had to be. They were two hunters, who, upon learning of he and Dean's roles in starting the Apocalypse, had hunted them down and shot them both in cold blood. They had only been after him, but after Dean had figured out who they were, Walt had killed his big brother just as he had killed him. While the two of them had been resurrected hours later, their journey through heaven was one of their most harrowing yet, and further disintegrated the bond between the two brothers. Sam still got a lump in his throat, when he remembered a hopeless Cas giving the amulet he had given his brother back to Dean, and Dean, hurt by the fact that he hadn't been in any of the memories of Sam's that he had seen, had thrown it away. Gulping, Sam stayed where he was, because if the two hunters who had entered the store realised it was him, he had a feeling nothing would stop them from going for round two, and nowadays, the Winchesters didn't have a come back to life for free card.

"Some of the hunters I've met have been mentioning something older than demons and ghosts. Things before we were made. Leviathans." Roy, the shorter, bearded one said as they approached the counter.

"Where did they come from?" Walt demanded, asking for a packet of cigarettes, while picking up a bottle of whisky that was on special.

Roy glowered at nothing in particular, and Sam waited with baited breath to hear the reply.

"Where else? The damned Winchesters. Their pet angel went mad and let them loose on the world, got himself killed in the process." He snarled, and Sam fought down a wave of anger.

It wasn't their fault that Cas had done what he had done, nor was it truly their fault that the Apocalypse had started. And speaking like that about Cas just wasn't right, no matter what he had done.

Walt slammed his fist into the counter furiously, earning him a telling off from the woman behind the till.

"I told you! As soon as we found out they were alive, we should have hunter those fuckers down and blown their brains out all over again." He growled menacingly, and Sam tensed, wondering what else he would overhear. If they discovered he was there, there was a good chance Walt and Roy would try to finish what they started.

"Yeah, but they stopped the Apocalypse Walt. That took some doing." Roy said slightly defensively, though he didn't sound all that grateful, and Walt snorted derisively.

"Yeah, which they started. We should have hunted them both down, end of story. They were traitors, we should have executed them like the pigs they are. Screw their destiny or whatever they felt it was, we should have shown them that they can't get away with continually screwing the world up. So much for the great Dean Winchester's vengeance! That pussy couldn't find us even if he tried." Walt scoffed, and Sam was now quivering in anger.

The filthy cowards who had killed them had ambushed them when they were still asleep and stripped them both of their weapons, before shooting them in cold blood. And they thought they were the decent ones? And calling his big brother a pussy was beyond the pale. Only Sam got to insult him in such a way.

They thought they were so much better. Sam glanced around the corner of the aisle, to see the bald, unpleasant face of the man who had killed him and his brother. Walt had a lot to answer for.

When they had returned from heaven, Dean had wanted to hunt them down. But, as he had given up hope in saving the world, Sam was left to pick up the slack, and though it was a struggle, he convinced Dean to go with him to try and find another way to save the planet. But it hadn't been a pleasant experience. Both brothers were hurting, and Dean seemed determined to give up and be angry at Sam. While Sam had tried to talk, tried to explain, his brother had been a self righteous prat, acting like he was the only one hurting, and Sam had given up. Besides, he hadn't wanted Dean to hunt down the ones who had killed them. Because, for what they had done, he was sure Dean would have used some of the lessons he learned under Alastair, and he scared his little brother when he got like that.

"Yeah, without their pet angel they're nothing. I heard the old man they hung around with, Bobby, was killed by those Leviathans." Roy said with a sick grin, and Walt roared with laughter.

"Serves the arrogant little gits right. Thinking they're better than the rest of us, just because they could start an Apocalypse? Even if they ended it, the world would be better off without any Winchesters in it at all." He crowed.

Sam's temper was boiling. Laughing at what happened to Bobby was sick. Twisted. He wanted to run down the aisle and kill the two of them. But, he couldn't. For a start, the proprietor would probably notice. Secondly, one might escape.

Either way, he had found his next hunt. Walt and Roy. They thought they were better than the Winchesters? They would see. Sam smiled grimly and hung back.

"So, it was them that set the Levithans loose on the world. Figures. Everything they touch turns to ash. They're cursed. Both of them." Walt said musingly, and there was a pang in Sam's heart, remembering what a drunken Dean had said while trying to kill him. Fighting down the reminder of what had happened in Dillimore, Sam listened back into the two hunters conversation, who were still waiting as the owner brewed them coffee.

"Yeah. And it isn't them who gets to deal with it, is it? It's the rest of the world. They act all high and mighty, and look what happens. Because of them, we get an Apocalypse, we get the Mother of all and we get these bloody Leviathans. These monsters are taking over, and we have to clean up their mess again. These things are dangerous Walt. Seems only right we try to make it right." Roy said, and Sam bristled. He had always assumed that Roy was the weaker of the two, just going along with the more assertive Walt. But here the cowardly, back stabbing little shit was, advocating that the two of them make things right by trying to kill him and his brother.

"I was thinking the exact same thing. Time to go hunting." Walt said, grinning fiercely as he was handed his coffee.

"But...are we sure?" Roy asked nervously, suddenly revealing his true nature, and Sam scoffed under his breath at how cowardly the man was, even when it was his own idea.

"Roy! Look around you! How many times have the Winchesters sent the world to hell because they think they know what they're doing? They're dangerous, hanging round with angels and demons the way they do, and like you said, it's us who has to pick up the slack. And now, they don't have their angel friend to help them. No, this time, when we snuff 'em, we snuff 'em for good. Which is what we should have done in the first place, as soon as we heard the little brat Sam was going dark. Should have hunted them down and killed them both, saved the whole world a lot of grief. We hunt them down, save the world from them before they cause any more damage. Let's go. Sooner we find the Winchesters, the sooner the world's a safer place." Walt said cheerfully, and he and Roy laughed as they walked out of the shop.

Sam growled to himself. They could convince themselves all they wanted that they were doing the right thing, by trying to kill him and Dean. But while they did make messes, they had always cleaned it up. He'd been tortured in the cage for over a year, had thrown himself to the mercy of a pissed off Lucifer and Michael, in order to atone for what he had done. And those sanctimonious bastards thought that they deserved to die? It wasn't their fault the Leviathans got loose, or that they were taking over. Walt and Roy thought they were protecting the world. That was their justification.

Truth was, they were psychos, Walt in particular. Sam put down his basket. He had to get to Dean, warn him that Walt and Roy were gunning for them...and get to them first.

Hunters usually didn't kill one another, not unless they went dark and became random murderers, or were found to be traitors. But this was different. Walt and Roy clearly had not mellowed, and their hatred and jealousy of he and his brother had increased since their last encounter, and now they were just looking for an excuse to go and hunt them. That crossed the line. Walt and Roy had gone dark, and had become murderers, who convinced themselves they were doing the right thing. They weren't. And Sam wouldn't let them hurt Dean. Not now, not now everything was going so well again.

Hunter vs. hunter. It had come to that. Sam sighed wearily, and put down his basket. He had to get to Dean, warn him that those two maniacs were going to try and kill them again.

Sam rushed out into the parking lot, intending to run home to Dean, to warn him. He was just crossing the empty park when a large metal bar slammed into his shoulders. Sam roared in pain and turned, punching upwards, knocking Roy to the floor with a whimper.

"Well if it isn't little Sammy Winchester? Been a while, huh kid? Roy spotted you out of the shop mirror, so we decided to wait. Can't have you running home to big brother now can we? I doubt he'd be happy if his old pals Walt and Roy had decided to off his little brother." Walt said with a sneer, his gun pointing at Sam's chest.

Sam moved. He seized Walt's wrist, forcing the gun into the sky and kicked the other hunter in the stomach. Walt wheezed and Sam wrested the gun from him, but Roy had regained his feet and swung the bar at him again, knocking the gun from his hand. Sam then grabbed the bar and snatched it from Roy's much weaker hand, swinging it hard. Roy groaned in pain as the bar connected with his skull, sending him to the ground. Walt gave a roar and jumped at Sam, punching him in the chin and, catching Sam off balance, sent him crashing to the floor. Sam kicked upwards, hitting Walt where it counted, and he rolled for the gun to draw on the two of them. How could he have been so stupid as to leave his own gun in the room?

Walt staggered back, his ugly face flushed with anger.

"You'll pay for that you arrogant little shit!" he vowed, and dove for the bar, while Roy dragged himself up again.

Sam kicked Roy in the neck, sending the man sprawling onto his back with a wheeze. But, in the time it had taken to immobilise Roy, Walt had seized the bar, and swung it. Being taller than Roy, it worked a lot better. While he mostly missed, it did clip the side of Sam's head, and sent him down to the tarmac. Roy was wheezing and trying to sit up, and Walt was coming round for another attack. Sam kicked Roy in the head, knocking the man out cold, and he made a break for the gun. He had to get back to Dean, warn him. Sam stood up, feeling a trickle of blood from his temple, and made for the gun, lying a few feet away. The parking lot was too open, even if he escaped, if Walt got the gun back, he would be dead before he reached the bridge. And they had a truck. So, he had to minimise his risks. Walt got there before hand, swinging the bar towards Sam's face, and he instinctively raised his hand to block the attack, and he felt his right wrist, so recently broken and repaired, shatter with the impact.

Crying out with pain, Sam staggered backwards, and then slammed his other hand into Walt's chin with a fierce punch, knocking the vicious hunter onto his back in surprise. Sam held his wrist and started for the edge of the tarmac, confident he would be safe long enough to escape, to get to Dean, and warn him.

He wasn't.

Walt had recovered quicker than he expected, and had wrapped a piece of rope around his neck. Surprised by the sudden attack, Sam was dragged down to the tarmac, and he felt the rope begin to cut into his airway.

_Aww, not again_, he thought, as Walt pulled back on the rope.

The rope began to cut into his airway, and Sam raised his good hand to try and pull the rope away from his neck.

"Your brother must be nearby. But you have hurt me and my partner little Sam. You're going to learn what happens. The plan was to just kill you. But now, we're going to have to hurt you first." Walt hissed in his ear.

The rope tightened around his neck, and Sam began kicking his legs, trying valiantly to free himself from Walt's lethal grip. Sam began to feel the blood pumping into his head, it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. He tried to hit Walt with his good hand, but the noose on his neck was making the process all too difficult. For a smaller man, Walt was very strong, the rope tied tight around his neck, and Sam was finding it very difficult to get any purchase at all. He clawed at the rope around his neck, his breath wheezing in his ears, but the grip was simply too tight. Trapped with only one decent arm, he was in trouble as he began to see stars.

His legs continued to thrash, and he hoped valiantly for someone to pass, but the place was deserted. The rope was cutting into his precious air supply, blood was pounding through his head as he struggled to release himself from the grip of his attacker. Spots were beginning to appear in his eyes as he struggled against Walt, his good hand and legs thrashing wildly, trying valiantly to gain some purchase, but it was no good, the tarmac was too soft, too new, and he couldn't pry the rope from his neck no matter how much he struggled. Sam was gasping for air, his voice wheezing in the back of his throat as he tried to push Walt away, but he was having no success. His legs were kicking frantically, desperate to free himself to warn his brother of the danger he was in. The rope was burning against his neck as they struggled, and Sam knew he was losing the fight.

Walt twisted the rope further into Sam's neck, and while Sam continued to kick and thrash, his gagging was getting more insistent, gasping for whatever air he could muster, but Walt was overpowering him. Sam's face was turning red, his tongue swelling as a result of the lack of air, and his eyes were going wide in terror and desperation as he gasped desperately, keen for any air that might be able to save him. His body was weakening from the lack of air, and he was thrashing less as the blackness began to mount. Sam was struggling to stay conscious, but it was to no avail. With one last gag, his legs went still. Walt grinned victoriously as Sam passed out, his eyes rolling into his head before closing, and the struggle stopped with a final defeated gag.

Walt contemplated. How easy it would be to finish off the youngest Winchester, here and now. Tighten the rope for a few more minutes, and Sam would never draw another breath. He surveyed the red faced, slick haired youth before him, and decided against it. No. They wanted both brothers. They had Sam. Now they had to get Dean. It wasn't right to kill Sam. Not yet at least.

"Is he dead?" Roy asked weakly as he plodded over, looking around nervously.

"No. Come on, help me get him into the truck. We'll take him to Aldea Malvada. Then, we wait for Dean. Then," he said, snickering slightly, "we kill them both." He said with excitement.

He climbed out from under the taller hunter, and spat down at Sam. His legs were sprawled at awkward angles, his broken wrist jutting painfully, while his other arm was draped away from his body. His face was deep red, and his tongue swollen. Walt and Roy lifted the tall hunter up and dumped his unconscious body into the back of their truck. The two then hobbled to the cabin, and started the engine.

Now all they had to do was wait. And once Dean came, they would kill them both.

**Aww poor Sammy! Strangled again, he can never catch a break.**

**But here we are with a brand new story! This story does serve as a sort of sequel to The Demon Drink, but it can be read alone if you wish. This is only my second Supernatural story but I fear I'm already becoming addicted to writing them. Oh dear.  
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**So, the villainous hunters Walt and Roy are back, and once more out for the Winchester's blood. And of course, poor Dean is soon going to find out his baby brother has been kidnapped, and I can tell you he isnt going to be a happy bunny. Will he save Sam in time, or will Walt and Roy get them both? And what else will happen with those two hunters trying to kill them both for something they had no control over?  
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**I always thought they needed to clear up what happened with Walt and Roy, considering all the damage they caused by killing Sam and Dean, especially to their relationship. Don't worry, past mistakes made by Sam and Dean will be touched on in this story, make no mistake, and a reckoning will be had.  
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**I hope you enjoy this story as much as you seemed to the last one, and I will hopefully update soon, but until then, please review, review, review!  
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**P.S Does anyone know if Season 7 is being released just as the complete version, or will it still be split into two parts?  
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**P.P.S If anyone wants to see what I made Sam look like, ask and I'll send you the link (I think he looks very nice indeed)  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural (boo)**

Misplaced Revenge

Dean smiled to himself as he left the bathroom, towel tied round his waist, and he hopped onto the bed. He had missed this. The two of them just being brothers, engaged in constant warfare to get one up on the other, and he had won this round, leaving Sam stuck all dirty, grimy and gelled, and he knew it must be driving his little brother crazy.

Flicking on 'Dr Sexy MD', he settled back to relax, allowing his hair to dry in the hot desert air that was permeating the room. Truthfully, he hadn't been this good in a long time. Yeah, he still drank a little, sure he did, but he did it with Sam there, to celebrate a hunt well done, and despite finding that filthy traitor Cas, events hadn't been bad enough to warrant a return to full blown drinking. For the first time in, well years, he felt like Sam's big brother again.

Den frowned as he thought of how close he had come to losing Sam, not just as a brother, but for good. He couldn't allow anything like that to happen ever again. He needed his brother, as much as he needed him, even though Sam wasn't hosting the devil in his head anymore.

Dean watched his show, supposing that meant he was now going to have to let Sam watch his soap opera when he came back, and noticing that the sky was a bright ruby red, it occurred to Dean that Sam should have been back ages ago.

Dean sat up on the bed, worry filling him. He knew he shouldn't overreact, but Sam hadn't returned, and when he saw that he had left his gun on his bed, Dean felt a tiny sliver of panic work its way into his gut. Getting up and throwing some trousers and a top on, Dean reached for his phone, ready to leap into action if he detected any sign that something had befallen Sam. Dean waited, his breath held, and when Sam's phone clicked immediately to answer phone, he did get worried. He wasn't answering, his gun was on the bed and he had been gone far too long.

He had only gone to the store to get some food. But then, unbidden, a horrible memory surfaced in Dean's mind: when he had sent Sam in for some food once before, and in a flurry of blood, his little brother had been taken to Cold Oak, where he had lost his life. Feeling jumpy and on the verge of panic, Dean dashed out into the courtyard and into the car they had been using, driving down towards the garage store. Something was wrong. He knew it. The 'Sammy is in trouble' alarm, which had been intermittent for the last god knew how long, was now once again finely tuned, and it was currently going haywire. Something had happened to Sam, he was sure of it. Baring his teeth, Dean entered the parking lot, desperate for any sign of his brother. There was none to be had as he scanned the area, looking for any sign of his brother.

"Not again Sammy..." Dean moaned, getting out of the car.

Why had he let Sam go out to the store? Nearly every time he sent Sam out to get something, something bad inevitably happened, whether it be kidnapping, demons, death, or all of the above mixed together. Dean cursed himself. What could have happened to Sam in the intervening time? Why had Dean leapt into the shower first? He knew it did no good to blame himself, but once more Sam seemed to have vanished, and once again, it was down to him. Just like when he had nearly been killed in Dillimore had been down to him.

Dean forced himself to take a deep breath. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe Sam had been caught short by the call of nature and was in the loo. Maybe he'd met a girl. Dean would be pissed at that, but he could accept it. But then again, it was Dean who was the brother most likely to pick up a random girl and go home with her, not Sam. Dean entered the garage store, and quickly scanned the shop, seeing nothing, which only served to strengthen his rising force of panic. He walked up to the matronly like woman behind the counter, and she smiled at him.

"What can I get you love?" she asked, her hand ready above the coffee machine.

"My brother hopefully. Have you seen him? Six foot tall, dark hair, currently gelled, would have been buying pie hopefully?" he asked, hope burning in his eyes.

The woman nodded in realisation, and Dean wondered if god really had abandoned the world, or if someone up there just liked him and Sam.

"Yes, I saw a boy like that. But, I have to say he went extremely odd after a while." She said, and Dean frowned.

No. Sam couldn't have gone odd. Sam didn't go odd anymore, Cas had fixed him. Sam was only as odd as he ever was, which compared to some of the things Dean had done, wasn't that much.

"Odd how?" Dean asked, wondering if that turncoat Cas had sent Sam's hellish mind back to him, he wouldn't put it past the dirty rat.

"Well, it was when two more guys came in. They were dangerous looking types, and they just froze. They kept talking about these things called Leviathans, and angels, and Winchesters. It was all very weird actually. They kept talking like they'd killed these Winchesters and they had come back, but I don't see how that could have happened. Mind you they didn't seem like dope heads, we don't get a lot of them around here. They definitely sounded dangerous, and right in front of me, they decided they were going to go after these Winchesters because of these Leviathan things they had let their pet angel set loose. See, you get all sorts here? Anyway, your brother went really still, and followed them out, a few minutes later, the ones who wanted to hunt the Winchesters had driven away, that was the last I saw of him." She explained chattily, pouring herself a cup of coffee while doing do.

Dean however had stopped paying attention. They could only be hunters that had been in here, and if they had killed him and Sam, that meant they could only be one pair: Walt and Roy.

The sons of bitches had snuck into their room three years before, and had murdered them both in cold blood, Sam first, shooting him point blank and then following through with Dean, as Walt had reasoned (rightly) that Dean would hunt them down and murder them for what they had just done to his little brother. However, after everything that had gone on in heaven and afterwards, and Dean himself giving up the fight and basically consigning himself to say yes to Michael, he hadn't bothered. How he was regretting that now.

The sons of bitches must have taken Sam. Sam wouldn't have tried to tackle them on his own, not without his gun, even if he had overheard them. No, if Sam had run out, he must have been bound back for the motel, to warn Dean that those two were out for their blood again. The problem was that he had never made it, which meant those shits had taken him in the car park.

So, that left Dean with a god awful question...had they kidnapped Sam, or killed him?

Dean darted out of the shop, leaving the woman talking to herself about her stranger customers, and his eyes scoured the car park. He couldn't believe Sam was dead. No, surely not. If they had wanted Sam dead, they would have killed him, there and then, and waited for Dean to come to them, driven by grief and anger and much more likely to make a mistake .That would have been the smart thing to do, but no one had ever said Roy and Walt were particularly smart. So, by all means, that had to mean that Sam was alive, and that those bastards had taken him, to lure Dean to them, so they could kill them both.

Dean stomped through the car park, looking for anything that might be a clue, and finally found something that made his search worthwhile. Blood. Bending down and testing it with his fingers, he found that it was still warm, so Sam couldn't have been gone that long, which was good. And somehow, Dean also knew within his heart that this blood wasn't Sam's. Dean smiled. _That's my boy_, he thought proudly. He might have been overpowered (he doubted those two idiots could outwit his brother, they couldn't outwit Cas and he was in cloud cuckoo land), but at least he had made them work for it.

But, as that proud thought came to mind, something else sent a chill through Dean. Walt was known for having a very nasty temper. He had once nearly beat a hunter to death in Ellen's roadhouse, the story went, because said hunter had disagreed with him about his choice of weapon, and only a warning shot and a lifetime bar from Ellen had prevented things from getting worse. And, considering what he had done to both Sam and Dean, his temper was still very vicious (nothing said anger issues like a rifle blast to the chest). Dean frowned in panic. If Sam had hurt Walt and had been overpowered, Walt might take a very vicious and brutal revenge on his little brother. Feeling slightly sick, and the memory of their last Christmas before his deal had come due coming to mind as to just some of the things that could happen to Sam, he continued his search.

He didn't find any more blood, which suited him. That meant, he hoped, that Sam was still in a reasonably healthy state. Dean growled savagely. Walt and Roy had crossed the line. Back then, he supposed they had had some reason to kill them, even if it was ill advised, ill informed, brutal and stupid. They hadn't known the two of them had been trying to fix the Apocalypse mess they had started. In their situation, he and Sam might have considered the same thing. They never would have done it, but they certainly would have considered it. But this was too far. Sam had nothing to do with the Leviathans being set loose. He had even less to do with it than Dean or Bobby had had, because Dean had delayed and wasted precious time, hoping his baby brother would come out of the coma his dear 'friend' Castiel had brought him into when he had destroyed his wall. But Walt and Roy were gunning for them again, because of the Leviathans. As if they didn't have enough problems, like invincible enemies who just kept replicating, pissed off demons and kings of hell and repairing their relationship, now Walt and Roy had set out to deliberately kill other hunters, and with the very base of justification to boot. Dean was going to kill them. If one hair had been moved on Sam's head, the two of them would regret ever coming after them again. The two hunters were trying to kill someone who was virtually innocent in the entire affair. What was the old adage? 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me'. Because of all that had happened, they had escaped scot free after killing the two of them before, despite Dean's vow of vengeance.

If he had had his head on straight, if he hadn't been so focused on giving up and just getting it over with, if he hadn't been so keen to let his baby brother down, and hurt him terribly (he quickly skated past that thought), he would have made good on that promise and killed the two bastards who had murdered his little brother right in front of him. His own death, he could get over. But killing his little brother, so ruthlessly and callously, right in front of him, he would never get over that. Especially when he recalled Sam pleading with them, begging them to listen before they snuffed out his life force.

Dean knew Walt had been the driving force. Roy always had been a coward. Walt had killed the two of them. Walt had happily shot Sam. The man wasn't a hunter, he was a monster. And he was a monster who now had Sam's brother, along with a pathetic excuse for hunter, monster and human being.

Dean continued to comb the car park, anger pulsing through his veins. He remembered the hunt through Dillimore to find the one who had nearly killed Sam (not realising all he had to do to find him was look in a mirror, he thought guiltily), the anger that had been driving him. And now, it was worse. He was back in full, overprotective, overbearing, overcompensating and overenthusiastic big brother mode, and someone had his little brother. They would soon learn just how stupid a move that could be.

Truthfully, it felt good to feel so much again. He had blocked out so much of the good in his life, so much of Sam, that he had forgotten what it was like to be himself, the big brother. And with a slight smile, he realised how much he really enjoyed being Sam's big brother. He would find his brother. He would free him. Then together, the Winchesters would make those lousy excuses for human beings pay.

Dean's light source was rapidly fading, and all he had to show was a bit of blood and a few scuff marks, until he felt something beneath his shoe. Frowning, he bent down and picked it up, holding the rope up to the nearly distant light of the garage. Dean looked at it curiously, and then rolled his eyes as the truth dawned on him. After all, it was Sam. What else could it mean?

"Aww not again Sammy. How many times can you get strangled huh? It's a wonder your head still worked even before hell, the amount of oxygen it's lost over the years." He said chidingly, speaking to himself, but he could just imagine Sam's irate protest. After all, Dean was always getting thrown into, or worse, through walls.

Making a mental note to train Sam to escape a stranglehold once he got him back, something he supposed he really should have done years ago, Dean surveyed the surrounding area. If memory served, Walt drove a pick up truck, and as he was famed throughout the trade as being a real skinflint, Dean suspected he would still have the truck. Which, by law of averages, meant they had to have stuffed his unconscious baby brother in the back of the truck. Which ruled out them having gone back to town, as people probably would notice if a roughed up, unconscious six footer had been hauled out of the truck. The town was small, and Dean would have heard their truck pull up at the motel, so where had they gone? There was another couple of towns nearby, but they too were quite small, and the further away they went, the more they risked Sam waking up. So, where did that mean they had gone?

Dean pondered. He was losing daylight, fast, and he wanted Sam back as soon as possible. Walt wasn't exactly known for his patience. If he got bored of waiting for Dean, he might just kill Sam and go looking for him later. Dean growled, wishing he had someone to bounce ideas off of. It had been so long since he'd been in full on big brother mode like this, he'd gotten rusty. Time to fix that.

Time was running out. Walt, and to a certain extent Roy, wanted both him and Sam dead. The woman had said so, and that would have made Sam rush back to the motel to warn his brother. So he could accept that as kosher. They wanted them both together, so they wanted Dean to come looking for them. That had to mean they were nearby, somewhere they could get by unseen, and be able to hurt Sam in any way they wanted. Which Dean was determined to avoid. He was going to skin them alive when he got his hands on them. Dean thought about it. Where in the local area...got it! Sam had mentioned an abandoned ghost town near El Quebrados, called Aldea Malvada, that he thought might have been the reason there was a ghost in the area. Once they had dismissed that, Dean had insisted that they go visit it, and indeed, they had planned to visit both there and Las Brujas the next day. After all, they were hunters, it was the right and professional thing to do. The fact that it gave them a little time to relax and that Dean had intended to pull pranks on Sam in both places was totally irrelevant. Dean looked up to the cliff that the station sat in the shadow of. There was a dirt track leading up to it, he knew that. It made sense. There was nowhere else they could have gone in such a short space of time and not been heard, spotted or discovered by someone or other. It made perfect sense. Dean growled. Those bastards soon wouldn't know what had hit them.

_I'm coming Sammy_.

Dean clambered back into the Perennial and gunned the engine. He would have to take it slowly, and drive up without the lights on, but he could manage that. Those bastards had his brother, and intended to hurt him. They had just started being brothers again, and he was damned if he was letting them hurt him, not if he had anything to do about it.

The drive up was slow. In the dark, using only his flashlight inside the car, it was very difficult to make out the dirt track that led up the mountain. It made for very slow progress, and Dean was getting incredibly frustrated. He knew he had to be careful, if he went in all guns blazing he could get both of them killed. But, it was very difficult to retain a level head. His progress was maddeningly slow, and every minute he took gave Walt and Roy more time to hurt Sam, and he knew full well that they would be hurting him.

He continued to drive up slowly, until the car reached a steep incline. After a few grunting attempts, that Dean feared would alert his prey to his impending arrival, he gave it up as a bad job and climbed out of the car, pocketing his gun, Sam's spare gun, his pocket knife, his flashlight and some matches. Those suckers were going to pay, then he was going to make sure they could never come back while he was at it. They wouldn't threaten Sam again. Readying his gun, Dean's hand unconsciously touched his chest before he ventured up the steep incline, creeping along silently, gun at the ready. His progress was actually quicker now that he wasn't in the old car, and he was like a shadow, prowling up the slope towards the ghost town that he knew as at the top of the incline.

He was nearing the top, and he was sure he could see a small light casting over the incline. Dean smiled savagely. Soon, he would have them. And then, he heard something that made his heart stop cold. A pain filled scream cut across the night, and Dean knew instantly what it meant: the sick bastards were torturing his little brother. Fury boiled inside him, as he crept forward with greater purpose, as another of his brother's pain filled yells cut through the air. What were they doing to him? Fear and worry spread through Dean as he got closer to the top of the rock face, wondering how much time he had left. He readied his gun and crept forward.

To be met by the evil yellow eyes of a black rattlesnake, hissing at him menacingly. Dean whimpered. He whimpered like a girl. He had always been against snakes, hated them. He had always teased Sam relentlessly for being afraid of spiders when they were younger, but snakes terrified the shit out of him. And this evil looking creature had seen Dean and was rattling bloody murder.

It was loud standing right next to the foul thing. Dean looked behind it, not taking his eyes off the potentially lethal animal, and looked at the small abandoned town behind it. They were small, ramshackle buildings, bleached white by the sun. Some were caved in, some were wide open to the elements due to collapse. But there was one that was quite intact, and there was a light coming from it, and a pickup truck beside it.

Sam was there. And this freakin snake was in the way.

The snake was hissing at him, coiling itself, ready to strike, its tail rattling sinisterly. He couldn't shoot the damn thing, or else his prey would hear. He also couldn't make any sudden movements, or else the damn thing would bite him, and he didn't fancy going up against Walt and Roy with venom blazing through his veins. So, where did that leave him?

Dean went for his pocket knife, moving slowly. The snake was watching him intently, and he knew that one wrong move would make the blasted thing pounce, and he wouldn't be able to stop it. His insides filled with fear, his hand shaking, he grasped the handle of his knife in his pocket, and with the snake watching intently, he distracted it with his torch, moving it a little. The snake switched target, his eyes fixed on the light, and Dean pulled the knife from his pocket, and darted forward before the snake could react, plunging the knife into the neck of the foul creature.

The snake gave a broken hiss as it twitched and writhed, pinned to the ground by the blade, and Dean shuddered in disgust. Foul creature. He stole up onto the outcropping, lifting the knife from the snake and kicked its body away, before silently creeping forwards once more, approaching the single lit building, as Sam cried in pain, and Dean could hear the distress and the pleading and the tears in his voice.

"Please, just kill me! Leave Dean alone! He had nothing to do with this!" he protested, and Dean's insides knotted in fury hearing his brother pleading like that. Suppressing his fury, Dean crept ever closer to the building, the light illuminating his way, and thankfully, he saw no more snakes on the way over, before he came to a stop at a narrow slit and peered through.

"Funny thing eh Walt? He said he had nothing to do with the Leviathans too. But now, he's willing to let us kill him if we spare his dear older brother." Roy laughed mockingly, and Dean could hear the booze in his voice. He smiled grimly. He had sounded like that himself enough recently. He would pay for drinking on the job with his life.

Sam looked bad, but he had looked worse. His left eye was slightly swollen, and there was blood in his mouth, but aside from that his face looked fine. His hair wasn't congealed with blood, but was still mostly tidy and slick from the gel. But as Dean ran a critical eye down his brother's body, his rage boiled. Two of his fingers were bleeding, the nails having been wrenched off. Two fingers also looked broken as well. There were deep cuts in Sam's shirt, and he could see blood spilling from each of them, making him all the more furious. There was also blood on his torn jeans, and his shoes and socks had been pulled off, and he could tell they had pulled nails off his toes as well. Sickened, he glowered at the two hunters.

This was it. No arguments, no second chances. He would free Sam, check he was alright, then murder these bastards who thought they could turn vigilante and scrub him and his brother. No more. He wouldn't let them threaten him or Sam again.

"Leave Dean out of this." Sam spat angrily, and Dean smiled grimly, hearing the inflection in his brother's voice. His spirit definitely wasn't broken.

"Oh, what big bwother not part of the deal? Sorry Sam. You guys start the Apocalypse, we kill you like the demons you are, and you still have the gall to come back. You got off for doing that scot free. That wasn't right Sam. You can't just start the end of the world and not pay for it." Walt said conversationally, taking in a baby voice at first but turning harder as he progressed, hard, angry, and also smug.

Dean's knuckles went white as he gripped his gun. That asshole thought Sam had gotten off scot free? Neither of them had. They had fixed the mess, saved the world, and it had still bit them both in the ass, Sam in particular. He was in for a world of hurt when he got his hands on him. Sam had been through hell, more than anyone else in the world, and this bastard was lecturing him?

"I did pay, I was trapped in Lucifer's cage for a year." Sam spat furiously, and Walt and Roy both laughed mockingly.

"After what you did, a year wasn't nearly long enough. But you didn't stop there did you Sam? No. You and your asshole brother, with your brother's pansy angel boyfriend, you set these Leviathans loose on the world. Yet another mess you Winchesters are responsible for." Walt said, and Sam screamed in pain as Walt slammed a hammer down onto his pinky, and Dean had to hold himself back from running in and slugging him.

"It wasn't us! It was Cas, he did it!" Sam protested, and Roy scoffed, spitting booze into Sam's face, making Sam grunt in disgust.

"Please. We all know how close you guys were. You set those things loose, you've screwed us all over again. And now, you're going to pay." He wheezed, and Dean had had enough.

He tiptoed around to the large, open doorway, readying his gun.

"Looks like your brother's not coming. Shame." Roy taunted, and Walt nodded at him.

Sam looked at him worriedly, and then Roy smacked the empty whisky bottle off the back of his head, and Sam's head fell to his chest, going limp as he was knocked out.

Dean saw red, and moved, entering the building. He raised his gun to put a bullet between Roy's eyeballs, but as he did so, he realised, in his anger and desperation to get to Sam, he had misjudged where Walt was. Before he could kill even one of his brother's captors, Walt swung a baseball bat, smacking it into Dean's head.

Dean gave a grunt, his gun flew out of his hand, his eyes rolled into his head and he sagged to the sandy ground, his face crashing just before Sam's feet and a plume of dust settling in his spiky hair, while Walt and Roy laughed triumphantly behind them.

**Uh oh. Now the evil bastards have both of them. How will they get out of this mess?**

**Safe to say, the boys, Sam in particular, are in for a rough time next chapter. And then, old issues will come up, connected to Dean's strange gesture before he went for Sam.  
**

**And i hate snakes, felt right Dean should kill one. But it is significant, about snakes. After all, Walt and Roy are psychos.  
**

**Well thats another chapter up, so as always, please read and review!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural (Warning: brutality follows!)**

Misplaced Revenge

Dean awoke groggily, his head sore where Walt had hit him with the baseball bat. The sun had risen, and was blazing down into the ruined building, hurting his eyes as he looked around. Dean sat up slowly, shaking his head to clear it, and then his heart went still.

Sam.

His little brother was broken and bruised, yet again. The only good thing was that this time it wasn't Dean who had done it. Dean shuffled over to his brother, made more difficult by the thick chain that was tied around his hands. After a laborious effort, he made it to Sam and turned him over, his breath hitching in his throat.

Sam was in bad shape. His eyes were once more swollen and bruised, his lip was split, he was missing three fingernails and three toenails all together. His pinky was broken, as was his wrist. His neck had a friction burn around it from Walt's rope, and his complexion was pale. Dean expertly probed his baby brother with his eye, looking for any other sources of pain or discomfort, and his eyes trailed over the slashes in his clothes, and the odd angle his leg was at. Dean forced down a bout of rage. Walt must have continued hitting Sam after he had knocked Dean out. He would pay for that.

"Sammy, Sammy." Dean said gently, and Sam moaned in the back of his throat as he slowly opened his bruised eye.

"De'n? What you doing here?" he asked worriedly, trying to sit up but he found it a lot harder than he had expected so gave it up as a bad job.

"I'm rescuing you of course." Dean said as though it were obvious, but the sceptical look Sam gave him, which encompassed the chain around his hands, showed him that his brother didn't think much of his rescuing technique.

"Right. Dean, they've beaten me to a pulp, and you don't look too hot either. You're very red and your eyes are dilated." He said, all concern for his big brother, and Dean had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. When would he ever learn that he was the one who came first?

Come to think of it, his head was still sore. He was probably concussed. Something else the son of a bitch had to pay for.

"Where are Walt and Roy?" Sam asked, and Dean squinted out of the slit he had peered through last night, and saw no sign of the truck.

"They must have gone to town for supplies. Idiots. Come on Sammy, let's get out of here." Dean said, and turned around only to be met by Walt's rifle, which was pointed at his face.

"Sit down, or I blow your brother full of holes. You don't seem to get this Winchester. This is over. We're in charge here, not you. You're done. Now sit the hell down, we have some things to discuss." Walt growled, and Dean did as he was told reluctantly, but made a point of sitting in front of Sam, who was still struggling to sit up.

Dean kept an eye on Sam through the corner of his eye, and looked at the tired bags under his eyes. An expression he had seen before...then it clicked. Sam had looked much the same when he had had dehydration, and Dean quickly put it together. With part of the roof missing, Sam had been unconscious in the sun for hours, and he was on the verge of dehydrating. Dean squirmed a bit closer to his brother, his worry mounting.

How could he have been so stupid as to underestimate Walt? The bastard had killed them both before, if nothing else that showed how dangerous they were. And Dean had blazed in, all guns firing, and hadn't done himself or Sam any good whatsoever. He had to fix this and fast. Preferably before Sam completely dehydrated. After giving his brother another concerned look, and not liking how away with it he looked, Dean glared up at their captor.

"Let Sam go." He growled, and Roy laughed as he entered the ramshackle building.

"Let him go? You think you can start the Apocalypse, set loose the Mother of All and let your friend let Leviathans free and you think we'll just let you go? No Dean. You see, Walt and I agree, you and your freakshow brother are dangerous to everyone and everything. We'll be praised for what we're gonna do. But don't worry, we're not going to kill you just yet. No, you boys have caused far too much damage. There has to be some payback." He said silkily, and Dean didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Look you bloodthirsty ass holes, we paid our dues. Sam went to Hell for crying out loud. And he didn't just go to the resort like I did, he went to the hell of hells, where Lucifer himself hangs out. Sam killed himself to save this god forsaken little lump of a world, that's full of jackasses like you who think they know everything. You don't know the hell he's been through, and you come in here and decide he hasn't suffered enough? No one's suffered more than Sam." Dean bit out furiously.

Walt then lunged for Dean, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him from the ground. Dean gagged in surprise, his legs kicking as he was dangled in the air by the other hunter.

"Dean! Let him go!" Sam yelled, his eyes fixed on his big brother.

"You need to learn to shut your mouth Dean. You humiliated us. Do you have any idea how stupid you made us look last time? We were boasting to every hunter we met that we had killed the Winchesters, we were the toast of every hunting bar in the country. We were heroes, and then we got word that you had come back from the dead. Throw our lives into the gutter will you? Do that to me? I don't think so!" Walt spat, as Dean continued to gag, his eyes starting to roll.

Sam swung with his good leg, making Walt stagger backwards and drop Dean, who took a deep, shuddering breath urgently. Roy then brutally kicked Sam in the head, making the younger hunter cry out in pain.

"Sammy!" Dean croaked as Roy kicked him again, this time in the gut, making Sam heave.

"Roy! Can it. Come on, we got stuff to get ready. We'll be back in a bit boys." Walt sneered maliciously, and he and Roy went back to the other part of the building, while Dean sidled up to Sam, who was wheezing slightly.

"Sammy? You ok?" Dean asked softly, and Sam gave him a feeble nod.

Dean cursed their captors, and looked at the sun, which was getting higher and higher into the sky. Sam was already close to dehydrating. He had to keep him out of the sun as long as possible, but come the afternoon, they would both be baked virtually, the heat reflected off the white stone they were surrounded by. Dean cursed his own stupidity once again, and turned to look at Sam, who had now managed to sit up, dust caked into his still slick hair. He really didn't look good.

"Ugh, I feel horrible." He complained, and Dean nodded to the shaded corner.

"Come on, let's get you into the shade." He said, beginning to slide over, made ten times more difficult by his bound hands.

Sam dragged himself over with his one good hand, they hadn't bothered to restrain him, probably figuring that with a bust knee and a broken wrist (again) that he would pose the least trouble out of the two Winchesters. He leaned against the wall, sitting beside his brother, and when Dean saw how much Sam was already struggling, he assumed a better position, and as expected Sam laid his head on Dean's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry Dean." He mumbled, and Dean looked at his brother in confusion.

"What for?" he asked, not having a clue what he could be talking about.

"Getting kidnapped again. I was trying to get back to warn you, but they ambushed me." He said sadly, and Dean shook his head.

"It wasn't your fault Sammy. I found blood in the carpark, I know you gave it your best shot. They just overpowered you. This is my fault, I shouldn't have rushed in. But I'll get us out of this, then we'll take those wankers down in the process ok?" he asked, and Sam nodded sleepily.

"Why do they hate us so much? We fixed the Apocalypse, Eve wasn't out fault and neither were the Leviathans. They were Cas and Crowley." Sam grumbled, and Dean fought off a smirk.

"I'm thinking they must have very small penises." He said, and was heartened when he heard Sam snigger despite his wounds.

As Sam laid and drifted to sleep (Dean supposed they had kept him up torturing him), Dean thought about their situation. The building they were in was two stories, and it looked as though there were three rooms left standing. Walt and Roy must have taken the first floor, just in case Dean got loose and gutted them in their sleep, so they could hear him coming. There was the main room where they had been torturing Sam all night, and there was this smaller room, where he and Sam were being held. Dean cursed. Walt and Roy may be idiots, but they would have taken his weapons up the stairs with them. So that ruled that out, especially when Sam was in a bad way and Dean couldn't use his hands. They also couldn't make a break for it, they would be shot, and they both knew experience that being shot by Walt's gun hurt like hell. So what did that leave them with?

Roy then entered, smiling sickly, and threw a bucket of water onto him and Sam, startling Sam awake. While he swore at the other hunter, it was some water for Sam at least.

"You got lunch on the go?" Dean snarled, and Roy laughed mockingly.

"Not quite. You're about to learn that no one makes a fool of Walt." He said, and grabbed Sam, hauling him off of Dean despite the string of incentive Dean sent his way, and he dragged Sam with his already broken wrist, making him gasp in pain as he did so, into the next room.

A bad feeling settled into his stomach. Whatever Walt had planned couldn't be good, and his feeling of trepidation was made worse then Roy pulled him up by his spiky hair, making him hiss in pain and annoyance, and dragged him through to see what Walt was doing.

Sam was once more tied up into the chair he had been last night, and he was looking at Dean, and Dean hated the look that was in his eyes. In the slightly more shaded room, he looked scared, begging for his big brother to help him even though he knew Dean could do nothing to help, his eyes full blown puppy dog, wide and fearful, and it made Dean seethe with anger, seeing that look on his brother's face and being unable to do anything about it. Dean struggled against his bonds, jangling the chains and Roy spun around and smacked him with the butt of his rifle, sending him to the stairs, cursing and spitting blood from his mouth as his gum bled.

"If you're going to kill us you sons of bitches, at least have the decency to do it properly." Dean spat, blood flying from his mouth in his anger.

"Or are you too cowardly?" Sam sneered, making his brother proud by the defiance in his voice, which didn't match the terror in his eyes.

"You know Sam, because Dean made us, we didn't get to really punish you for the Apocalypse." Walt commented idly, walking over to a table

Dean and Sam, despite their peril, looked at each other incredulously.

"You do realise you blew a massive hole in his fricking chest right?" Dean asked, and even Roy smirked a little at that as he saw Walt ball his hands in anger.

"Walt, we don't have to torture them. Let's just kill them and get out of here." Roy said, and Sam glowered at the other man hatefully.

"You forgot what they've done? This pair are a threat to the world, Roy. Every time they wake up in the morning, these demonic little bastards further screw up the world. We can't just let that slide. We're hunters, it's our job to hunt down monsters. That's what this pair are. And if we want to have a little fun in the process, that's up to us." Walt said, his eyes shining maliciously and Dean suddenly started to get a really bad feeling about him.

"Hang on. We aren't monsters. Listen to us. The angels manipulated us into starting the Apocalypse. And we're the ones who ended it. I took Lucifer and Michael down into the cage and trapped them both there and saved the world, so people like you can keep on living. We did our time for that, we paid our penance." Sam said desperately, and blanched as he saw what Walt was holding.

Dean tried to stand, but he received a blow to the stomach and he wheezed as he fell back to the ground.

In Walt's hands was a whip, and he was slowly walking around to Sam's back.

"Don't you dare you sick son of a bitch." Dean barked, and Walt smiled sickeningly.

"Do what? Oh, this?" he asked, and with vicious pleasure, he lashed the whip across Sam's back.

Sam howled in pain, and Walt pulled the whip away from him, and Dean observed the drip of blood from the tails, and wanted nothing more than to rip the bastards head off.

"Why are you doing this? We fixed the damn Apocalypse, we fixed Eve and we will fix the Leviathans. You don't need to hurt Sam." Dean said, eyes pulsing in anger as he willed Walt to combust, while Sam took shuddering breaths to calm himself, his pain filled puppy dog eyes looking to Dean for comfort.

"That's exactly the thing though Dean. You two are the ones who continually screw up the world, but no, it doesn't bother you. How many hunters are dead because of you? How many people? Gordon Walker was a friend of mine, a good hunter, and he was killed because you took the side of a demon shagger rather than your own people!" Walt spat, and Sam glared up at him, his voice hitching in his throat.

"Yeah, Gordon was killed, but that's because he became a freaking vampire! I was a hunter, I hunted." He snapped, and Walt lashed him again, making him cry out in pain.

"Don't you lie to me." Walt said, whipping Sam once more, and Dean saw the tears of pain fall from his brother's eyes.

"Who else did you lose huh? We lost our parents, the closest thing to a mother and a sister that we ever had, we lost Rufus, we lost each other, we lost our brother, we lost Cas, and we lost Bobby! Who the hell do you think you are? You've lost friends, big deal. We all have, get over it!" Dean roared, and he knew that if Sam hadn't been in intense pain, he would have received a look that would have just screamed '_really_'?

"See Dean? You're both poison. Hit him good Walt. You know if you were repentant, we might not mind as much. But we lost a good number of hunters all down to you, good friends, that let your demon friends overrun the world, and it's happening all over again! Lee Chambers, Gordon, Gwen Campbell, Steve Bose, Reggie Hull and Tim Janklow, all killed by messes you guys started, and you're on a roll! More hunters die every week, and its all because of you." Roy snarled, and Dean glared daggers at him.

Lee Chambers definitely wasn't their fault, and they had saved her daughter. Gordon had brought it on himself. But Gwen had been different, Dean had been possessed when he had killed her. And the other four had been killed not long after roughing up Sam after the Apocalypse began.

"That was for Lee. That was for Gwen. That was for Steve. That was for Reggie. That was for Tim. And that's because I didn't like your father. That's because I don't like your brother. And that's because I don't like you. Oh, and this is for being born in the first place!" Walt spat venomously, whipping Sam with each sentence, despite the stream of swearing Dean was throwing at him and the crying out in pain Sam was doing.

Dean had never felt so helpless. Seeing his brother, lashed by this sadist with a grudge he really had no business having, it was killing him. It was his little brother that was being ruthlessly tortured for events he'd had no control over, no say over, no power over, and he could do nothing to stop it. And Dean had done the same thing to him not so very long ago. Blamed Sam for everything, taken it all out on him. And he had nearly lost him. But he had to believe he would never enjoy the pain Walt was inflicting on Sam, like Walt and Roy were. Sam howled once more, cutting through Dean's heart.

"Let him go you bastard!" Dean bellowed, watching as Sam squirmed in the seat.

"You see? You're both poison, polluting the world wherever you go. When you die, you don't have the decency to stay dead, you came back. You made a fool out of me. And every time one of you has died, its been bad for the world, but you don't care as long as you two are happy. No more." Walt said, putting back the whip and picking up another instrument.

Dean glowered at him, watching warily as he lifted up his bat again.

"Is that what this is about? You've lost friends and you blame us? You don't care about the world, or your job, you just like the fact that we give you an outlet for your anger don't you? We made a fool of you, and you want to make us pay." Dean said, and Walt shrugged.

"Yeah, what of it?" he asked in an offhand way, slamming the bat into Sam's shoulder, and Sam howled in pain.

Dean looked at his little brother. Walt was sick. He was doing exactly what he had done in Dillimore, finding out everything that he thought was wrong with the world, and venting them on Sam. Sam looked at him desperately, tears of pain in his eyes, a pleading puppy dog expression, and Dean knew his resolve would break soon if he couldn't save Sam.

"We did our time for the Apocalypse. It's over. We saved your ungrateful ass, we lost a lot of good friends in the process doing it too. And I bet you haven't so much as seen a Leviathan. Castiel let them loose, there was nothing we could do to stop it." Dean growled, and Walt gave him a sickly smile.

"Ah, I've heard different. I heard you had plenty of time to stop him, but didn't, because you wanted to look after this piece of shit," he said, indicating Sam, who was trying to steady his breathing, while his back burned, and his blood trickled down his back.

"Cas nearly killed Sam!" Dean spat, watching worriedly as Sam looked close to passing out, his head lolling with the pain that was overloading his senses.

"And who, who told you?" Sam asked breathlessly, struggling to remain coherent and conscious.

"We ain't the only hunters who want you dead. Loads of us do. Some of those pathetic wimps forgave you when you saved the world. Not us. We lost good friends because of you, and we knew we'd get you again. And now we get to do the job properly. No more Apocalypse, no more pet angel. You die this time, its for keeps. And you can't imagine how sweet that sounds to us. After all you've done, everything you've set loose on the world, it's time we stop your cancer once and for all." Roy said boastfully, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"You kill us, how you going to stop the Leviathans?" Dean taunted, partly bluffing. After all, it was his and Sam's lot in life to clean up these messes and they would clean them up too in the end.

"Ah I hoped we'd get to this. You see, even though you're going to die, we'll still need to deal with the Leviathans. And while we'd love nothing more than to box you up and ship you off to them, we can't do that, so we're just going to have to make do with what we've got. Once we kill you, we kill the Leviathans, and that's the end of it. But we don't want you to just tell us Dean. Give us a little sport." Walt said, and picked up a vegetable peeler before moving towards Sam, and Dean had to fight not to vomit as he realised what the sick scumbag was about to do to his brother.

"We don't know how to kill them, believe me!" Dean yelled, his voice growing hysterical as Walt bent down and pulled out Sam's good arm, knowing what the scumbag was about to do to his brother and being unable to do anything about it.

"Wrong answer." Walt said with a sadistic smile, and peeled a strip of flesh from his arm.

Sam screamed out in pain, jerking in the chair, and snapping his bleeding arm out of Walt's grip, smacking him in the jaw. Walt staggered back, the peeler flying to the floor as he cursed. Roy started forward to help his partner, but Dean leapt up and tackled him to the floor, crushing him beneath his weight. Sam tried to get his other arm loose, but he was swaying on the spot, his eyes unfocused, and as he turned to try and free himself, Dean saw the mess that Walt had made of his back. Sam was swaying, deathly pale, looking like he was about to vomit, he was bleeding from his wounds, and he could barely stand, tears of pain running down his face. Dean headbutted Roy and struggled to his feet, but then a bullet lanced out from a pistol, slicing through the side of his leg, making him grunt in pain as he lost his balance due to the unexpected pain.

"No, Dean!" Sam cried in panic, turning to see what had befallen his brother, seeing him clutch his leg, and even though he was almost delirious with pain, he was still relieved to see that Dean wasn't in any immediate danger.

"Sam, look out!" Dean yelled, kicking a recovering Roy.

It was too late. Walt leapt at Sam, punching him in the face and Sam promptly collapsed back into the chair, his head rolling. Walt pointed the gun at Dean's head, but Sam acted instinctively, kicking Walt to save Dean. It was a feeble kick but it distracted Walt, who leaned to the table and picked up the rope that Dean had recovered from the car park.

"No, Sammy!" Dean cried in panic, realising what Walt was about to do.

Walt hatefully slammed his fist into Sam's jaw, sending his head reeling back and threatening to tip the blood stained chair over, but it stopped just short of doing so. Sam was panting in pain, eyes wide and fearful, blood running down his arm and back, pain blazing across his body, and he knew he didn't have long before he either passed out, or his body packed it in and he died.

Walt then wrapped the rope around Sam's neck, pulling it tight in an instant.

"No! Please, we don't know how to kill them, let him go!" Dean screamed as Roy got back to his feet and pinned Dean to the floor with his foot.

Sam was already gagging for air, his good leg buckling as he tried to gain purchase. His bleeding arm reached up to try and loosen the rope, but Walt hit the wound he had inflicted, and Dean heard a strangled cry of pain from his brother as his arm dropped.

This was it. They were going to kill Sam, his little brother, the one good thing he had left, the only family he had left, and he wouldn't be able to stop it.

"You were warned Sam! Now we had to hurt you, and now we'll need to hurt your brother too. We were going to torture you to get what we wanted from him, then off you in front of him before killing him. But now, I think you need to learn respect a little longer. You can't go around trying to hurt hunters like me. We're doing a public service by killing you vermin. You're filth, demon loving shit who fuck up the world day in and day out, and good people die because of it! Teach you to try and make fools of me!" Walt roared, drawing the cord even tighter, Dean could hear it creaking.

Sam's leg was buckling, his arm swinging uselessly as he struggled. His face was already bright red from the loss of air. Sam was gagging desperately, taking shuddering gasps in order to try and suck in some air to spare his life, but it was to no avail. Each gag drove a knife into Dean's heart and he looked desperately at his brother, who's eyes were currently rolling in his head, and he knew he would give them anything they wanted if it meant saving Sam.

"Please, let him go! Sodium borax! It hurts them, burns them, it doesn't kill them but its the best we've got, please, please don't kill him!" Dean pleaded desperately, and a second later he watched as Walt released the rope, though Sam's eyes rolled back and his eyes closed as he passed out.

"What now Walt? This has gone on long enough..." Roy said worriedly, looking at just how much Walt had victimised Sam and feeling slightly sickened, while Dean yelled angrily, ignoring the tears that were in his eyes as he watched his hurt brother's chest very slowly rise and fall.

"Yeah, you're right." Walt said, unlocking Sam's broken wrist from the chair and shoving him to the floor.

Sam flopped down right beside Dean, his eyes closed and facing Dean, and worry flooded him as he saw just how much damage Walt had done.

Dean said a word he usually would never say, as Sam hated it and he always told him off when he did it, and Walt smiled evilly.

"Language. Take his brat brother to the sun room Roy. Me and Dean are going to have a little talk. Oops, almost forgot." Walt said theatrically, glowering at Dean and picked up a full syringe.

"What you doing to him now?" Dean demanded as Roy forced him into the chair and tied him to it.

"It's morphine. Don't want him to die from his injuries before we kill him now do we?" Walt asked, sticking the syringe into Sam's neck, who of course didn't make a move at all.

Dean saw where the sun was, and knew Sam would be in an even worse state when he got to him, the sun was reaching its highest and the entire room would be bathed in light. He would be very dehydrated.

"Take him next door." Walt sneered, and Roy did so, and Dean glowered up at Walt as Roy dragged Sam off by the broken wrist.

"Just so you know Walt. We are going to get out of this. And for everything you just did to my brother, I'm going to make you hurt. Make you hurt loads. Just a warning. I'm gonna be pissed." He snarled, and Walt smiled smugly.

"Ooh, I'm so scared. You said you would be pissed last time, and all we've got is a few bruises. Oh, Dean Winchester, how scary he is! He's pissed with me, what will I do?" Walt mocked in a baby voice.

Dean smiled grimly, fantasising about torturing Walt.

"Let's get this show on the road." He said, promising vengeance on the two of them, and Walt cheerfully obliged, as Roy came back through to watch.

XX

The day was cooling down when Walt finally got bored and tossed Dean inside with Sam. The good thing was, his hands weren't bound anymore. The bad thing was, his right wrist was broken just like Sam's but at least he had something to work with.

While nothing compared to what Sam had endured, Dean's own torture had been far from kind, and he was missing fingernails, a few teeth, was bruised and bleeding, and had a damaged shoulder and he felt like his nose had been broken too.

But as he saw Sam lying in the room, turned red by the setting sun, and ignoring the victorious laughs of Walt and Roy from above, all his own problems vanished as he made his way to Sam's side, sidling along beside him to keep him warm in the night desert air which was quickly approaching.

"Aww Sammy I'm so sorry I screwed up. This is my fault." He whispered, curling himself around his beaten brother, his left hand stroking Sam's still near immaculate hair.

Neither of them could make a break for it now, they wouldn't stand a chance. But he was determined that they weren't going to die here. No, they would escape, and then they would get better...and then they would go on a very special hunt.

Walt was insane, and evil, and sadistic. While he had initially claimed that he was after them because he was fed up of things they did screwing up the world, now he was just doing it because he could. He didn't really care about the hunters who had died because of their mistakes, he suspected that was just something that Roy had been told to make him go along with it. No, Walt was doing this for one reason. He hated the two brothers, and wanted to make them suffer for making him seem weak, make them suffer because he was, as Dean strongly suspected, was jealous, make them suffer because he got off on victimising a helpless Sam. They were hurting Sam because of mistakes he and Dean had made, mistakes they had atoned for, fixed. But that didn't matter to Walt. All that mattered was that Walt had tried to kill the one who he thought was responsible for sending the world to hell, and it hadn't worked. So despite all that they had done, everything they had worked for, he still wanted Sam dead, just because of past mistakes and because he had escaped once before.

There was nothing noble about Walt's reasoning. This was revenge, pure, simple and sadistic. He was hurting Sam because he could, to prove that he was better than the one who had started the apocalypse. Now Dean was certain the bastard had a small cock.

They lay there for hours, Dean still stroking Sam's hair, and hearing snores from their captors, and he was just about to doze off due to exhaustion himself when he heard Sam speak.

"No, don't..." he moaned, and Dean's anger flared again, thinking he was reliving his torture.

"Oh I am so going to murder that sorry son of a bitch." He vowed dangerously, rubbing Sam's back to try and calm him.

"It's not worthless." Sam protested quietly, and Dean looked at his brother through the darkness, head cocked in confusion. What was he talking about?

"Sammy?" he asked softly, not wanting Walt and Roy to hear.

"It's not worthless Cas. Don't. Please don't Dean." Sam continued to moan, and Dean was very confused, but by the sound of his voice, he knew Sam didn't need to be thinking about whatever he was thinking about.

Why would he be thinking about Cas and Dean? What was worthless? Dean racked his brains.

"Dean, don't, please! It's not worthless, I'm not worthless. Please Dean!" Sam protested, and Dean had had enough.

"Sammy, you got to wake up bro. You're dreaming." _And I can't figure out what the hell you're dreaming about and it's pissing me off_, he thought.

Why would he think Sam was worthless? When had he ever thought that? Had he ever thought that? And what did Cas have to do...?

Abruptly, it clicked, as Sam unknowingly provided another clue.

"No! Dean, don't leave it!" he protested sadly, and Dean could hear the tears in his voice.

He knew what Sam was dreaming about. Walt and Roy killing them. Their trip to heaven. Sam not having any memories of him, while all of his denied who Sam was. Cas discovering that God had abandoned them all and didn't care.

The day Dean had done something so cruel and unfeeling, he had never forgotten it.

Done something he had regretted the second he did it, despite all that had happened between them.

The day Castiel had told them that the amulet Sam had once given him for Christmas, a mark of devotion from his little brother, of his love, of his favouritism of Dean over their dad, was worthless.

The day Dean had agreed, to hurt his brother, when he had given up all hope.

The day Dean had thrown away his amulet.

And by the sounds of it, broke Sam's heart in the process.

**Well that was disturbing.**

**So, Walt has shown his true colours as an evil, twisted insane psychopath, and Roy is just his faithful dope.  
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**Apologies for how dark this chapter was, but it seemed to be in the small snippet we got of Walt that he really was a violent and evil man (shooting Sam and Dean aside). Just goes to show that humans are some of the worst creatures the boys can deal with.  
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**What now? Both boys are rather worse for wear, and Sam has remembered something that was never addressed: Dean's dumping of the amulet. i wanted to string him up when he did that, and I will explore that next chapter.  
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**Thank you to doyleshuny for having someone to rant about Dean to, and also to Kirabaros for giving me inspiration for one of the reasons our two villains loathe the boys so much.  
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**So what next? Dean and Sam have issues stemming from their last encounter with Walt and Roy to deal with before they even consider getting out of this mess. But a turnaround is coming, and we are halfway through so watch this space for an update!  
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**Thank you for the reviews and please give me a lot more, and apologies once again for the darkness of this chapter.  
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**Until next time, please review!  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural (though thanks to doyleshuny I now know of two more films that Jared Padalecki is in)**

Misplaced Revenge

Dean remembered back to that day. It had been crappy, even by their standards. Firstly, Walt and Roy had barged into their motel room, and Dean still couldn't believe that that had happened. He always slept closest to the door, the better to protect Sam. But, that one night he hadn't. The two hunters had come in and disarmed them, pointing their guns at his little brother. They had then blamed Sam and Dean for starting the Apocalypse. Dean still remembered Sam pleading with them, begging them to listen, and the sound of fear in his baby brother's voice still tormented him. That was just yet another example of when he had failed to protect his baby brother. And then, the next thing he remembered was that bastard Walt putting two rounds in Sam's chest, spraying blood everywhere and dropping his limp and dead brother backwards on the bed, blood decorating the sheets and the wall.

Dean had warned them there and then that he was going to be pissed. Walt had then told Roy to shoot him too, fearing Dean's retribution, knowing full well what the younger hunter would do to the sick son of a bitch when he resurrected because he had killed his baby brother, whether it stuck or not.

But then, Walt had also killed him. And so, the two of them had gone to heaven, where they were constantly pursued by that bastard Zachariah, eager to earn brownie points with Michael by bringing him his true vessel. As a result the bastard had warped their memories of their mother, making her into his faithful slave to their disgust.

But it was their individual memories that had bothered Dean the most. While Sam had been present in every one of his, he hadn't been present in any of Sam's. Yeah, sure, in all the memories Sam was a kid, when he needed him most and relied on him day in and day out, but at least Sam was in them.

Dean hadn't been in any of Sam's. Thanksgivings with people who weren't family. The night he left for Stanford. They were the sort of memories that Sam had cherished, ones when he had gotten away from his family, escaped their life just for a little while. And that had hurt Dean a hell of a lot more than he was willing to admit.

After the boys had returned from heaven, and Cas had decreed that the amulet was worthless for finding God, who clearly didn't care that his angels were trying to destroy the world or that humanity's days might have been numbered, he had returned the amulet to Dean.

Who, in full view of his baby brother, the one who had given it to him, the one who had chosen him over their father (not that their dad had given him much cause to choose him over Dean), had dumped one of the most precious gifts he had ever received, simply to hurt his brother.

Cas had thought it was worthless. Dean had thought that Sam didn't care as much about him as much as he did about him. God didn't care. They couldn't stop the Apocalypse. Everything had joined together, and Dean had deliberately drawn out the process before dropping the amulet into the bin and leaving the room, leaving his brother behind once more.

That drive away from the motel where they had been murdered had been unpleasant to say the least. Dean was hurt and furious with Sam, with Cas, with God, with Zachariah, with the whole damn situation. Sam had clambered into the car, tears in his eyes, shot a look at the angry look on his brother's face, and had turned and faced the window, and hadn't moved from that position, not talking for hours.

The atmosphere in Cold Oak had been better, and Sam had been dead there.

They hadn't talked all day after that. Sam had made attempts to try and tell him, to talk to him, but Dean hadn't let him, and after that he had abandoned Sam in order to square things up before he, in his selfish misery, went and doomed the world by saying yes. He, the one who ever since they had found out Sam was Lucifer's true vessel had assassinated his brother's character day by day, reiterating every time the fact that he didn't have any faith in Sam, believing that he eventually would say yes to Lucifer and doom the world, telling him that eventually he would cave, implying he was weak and would always cave to evil, that he was born evil, despite Sam pleading with him not to say that., he had been the one who had caved and wanted to say yes to those bastard angels just so they could have their showdown and damn the world.

Dean wanted to scream in frustration. He knew at the time that Sam had wanted to explain, but he wouldn't let him. He was too busy being depressed and woe begone, and taking a savage pleasure from hurting Sam and preparing to fuck his little brother over to care. And now, three years later, Sam was still hurting from what Dean had done.

The two of them might be in a state but he was damned if he was going to let his brother be hurt by what he had done back then anymore. He had to sort this. Besides, if Walt and Roy actually did kill them (not that he intended to let that happen), he didn't want that to be unresolved before they did die.

"Sammy, wake up, we need to talk." Dean said, gently shaking his little brother with his good hand, and Sam made a groggy noise but did as instructed.

He had regretted it in later days. As soon as he had abandoned Sam he had regretted it, wanting a last memento of his brother before he gave in to the angels, like a coward. And when Sam had come for him, pleading with him to come back, after Dean had taken great joy in driving the angel sword through Zachariah's head, he wished he still had it, to show his brother that he did care, that he didn't think he was worthless, that he was the reason that he was still fighting. But the amulet had been gone, lost forever due to one moment in which Dean had wanted to deliberately scar his brother with his actions, and he had succeeded all too well. And when Sam had gone into the cage, when Dean had had to live a year without him, he wished he had the amulet, a constant reminder of his baby brother, who he loved more than anything, who he had pushed away so many times when all Sam had really done was want a life outside of hunting, when he had thought he had been doing the right thing, when he had done the human thing and screwed up and his brother had persecuted him for it rather than helped him.

He still missed its presence to this day, and he vaguely recalled trying to finger it before he had come looking for Sam. He really did hate himself at times.

"What is it Dean? By the way, I feel like shit." Sam commented, struggling to sit up and look at his brother, and Dean supposed he ought to follow suit, sitting up and looking at his brother in the darkness.

"You were dreaming." Dean said softly, and he recognised the look in his brother's eyes, the pure 'deer in headlights' look that he had always had when he had been caught doing something that he knew would cause trouble or most likely get him into it.

Dean remembered the first time he had had that look. He'd only been four, and they had been at Bobby's, and he had knocked over a candle and burnt one of Bobby's books, and Dean had seen and helped him put out the flame. And as soon as he had fixed Dean with those eyes, he had been totally helpless and hadn't mentioned it to Bobby, who had miraculously and to their great amusement, blamed their father, and given him a tongue lashing for it.

"No I wasn't." He protested softly, and Dean was sure he heard a tinge of childlike denial in his voice, and he suppressed the small smile that it brought to his face.

"Yeah you were. About the last time those bastards up there killed us." Dean said, and Sam looked away, and he could see his brow crease in what he knew was anger and hurt.

"Forget it Dean. Let me go back to sleep." He said, but Dean grabbed his shoulder before he could lie down.

"No Sam. We need to talk about it." Dean said, and knew immediately that saying that wasn't going to win him any favours.

Sam scoffed, predictably.

"Now you want to talk about it? It's been three years Dean, and you want to talk about it now? Little late don't you think?" Sam hissed, and Dean knew he had every right to be pissed off.

"Sam, I made a mistake that day. That was yet another jerk move I made back then, and I did that one in particular to hurt you. I knew how much it would hurt you, and I did it, to get back at you. I'm so sorry, I never imagined it had hurt you so badly, so badly that you still think about it." Dean said sadly, and Sam glowered at him.

"I don't." He snarled, and Dean caught his chin and forced him to look at him, and recoiled slightly when he saw the anger blazing there.

"Yes you do. I heard you, pleading with me not to drop it when you were dreaming. That you were worthless." He said calmly, knowing that if his brother's arms were working, he'd probably have hit him.

"Dean it was years ago, so let it go alright!" Sam snapped, but Dean shook his head.

"Not until we talk about this." He said, refusing to reflect on the ironic role reversal.

Sam grunted in exasperation and rolled his eyes.

"Fine. You want to talk? Talk. Why did you do it?" he demanded, and Dean suddenly realised that by forcing this issue he had sacrificed control of the situation.

Dean sighed.

"Sam, I wasn't thinking straight. Cas said it was worthless for finding God. Walt and Roy had murdered us. Zachariah had played with our heads and twisted everything. And I was hurt, I was angry, that I wasn't in any of your memories. I thought you didn't care about me as much as I cared about you, all your memories, I wasn't there and you were leaving me behind, and I was hurt and pissed. So when I got it back, I had already lost all hope and I thought I didn't matter to the thing that I was fighting for. I wanted to hurt you like you'd hurt me, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dumped the amulet. I know it was a horrible and stupid thing to do, I never should have done it, but I just wanted to make you hurt, I wanted to be cruel to you. And when Cas gave it back, I dumped it. It would hurt you and show how pissed off I was all in one. And it worked." He lamented.

And then to his great surprise, despite the pain his brother was in, Sam slammed his relatively good fist into Dean's face, knocking him flat on his back.

"You jerk. You think those memories were about getting away from you? Wrong Dean! I had another family member, someone I heartily disliked ninety percent of the time. Did it ever occur to you, you self absorbed asshole, that those memories might have come back because they represented me getting away from dad? No! Because everything I do is all about you, it's never about me is it, it all comes back to you! You weren't in the memories you saw, and you acted all dejected and misunderstood. In yours, I was a needy kid, relying on you for everything, that's the way you like me isn't it, utterly dependent on my big brother!" he yelled, and Dean looked up at his brother, flabbergasted.

Every time he had thought about those events, dumping the amulet, Dean had always assumed Sam's memories were those because he wasn't there, because he had escaped their crappy lives. He had never once even considered the possibility that it might be because Sam was happy he got away from their father, and have nothing to do with Dean.

"Sam-"

"I'm not finished! We were being hunted by Zachariah that day, and you know how much of a jerk he was, did it occur to you that he might have manipulated my memories? No, because you were too pissy because you finally discovered I wasn't as reliant on you as you wanted me to be." He spat angrily, and Dean sat back up, to try and calm his brother, but Sam fiercely shook him off.

"But that wasn't all. Cold Oak. Concrete. Pike Creek. The past. Any of those ring a bell Dean?" he snarled angrily, and Dean gulped a little.

Cold Oak was where Sam had died for the first time, killed by Jake Tulley, the one that had led to the deal. Concrete, where Sam had been hit by lightning and had died instantly after a wish gone wrong. Pike Creek where Zachariah had removed his lungs. And the past, where that treacherous hooker Anna had impaled Sam through the gut. All times Sam had died.

And that meant that all were times that he had gone to heaven.

"I remembered my best memories as soon as I woke up, the ones I relieved each time. You and me, our fireworks display. The first time you let me drive the Imapala. When you came back from the dead. When I fixed you after the Mystery Spot. The first time you backed off on a girl we both liked to give me a shot at her. The first time you stood up for me to dad. And strange though it sounds, the day you took me away in Stanford. And I had a whole lot of other memories every time I died, all of them involving you, until then. Back then, I wanted to run, just like I had then. Away from the angels, away from the demons, away from their Apocalypse, and most importantly away from my big brother who got so wrapped up in his own self pity that he didn't realise that he was losing me, who only looked out for me because of a duty not because he wanted to, assumed I was basically inherently evil just because I'd failed his expectations once, and who didn't have any faith in me and assumed from the start I was just going to cave to Lucifer because you didn't think I was strong enough to say no, which to me implied you thought I was evil!" Sam hollered, and Dean sat there, astounded.

He had had no idea. And Sam, Sam had let him stew in his own self pity. He had seen that Dean wouldn't listen to anything that he said, and as a result, had given up trying to talk to him, tell him the truth, and because he was too busy nursing his wounded pride, he hadn't seen it at all. Sam had tried, just like with his drinking, to make him see sense, and had once more been the one who had gotten hurt the most. And once again it was Dean who had inflicted those wounds.

"I gave you that amulet all those years ago...you vowed to never take it off, no matter what. I gave you that because you meant more to me than anything, more to me than dad ever could. You were the one who raised me, and I wanted you to know how much you meant to me. And because you let everything get to you, because you realised I didn't need you as much as you wanted to believe, and because my memories weren't bursting with memories of you, you thought that I didn't care, that I didn't love you. So you threw away the most important thing I had ever given you, and you knew full well what you were doing, you knew how much it would hurt. And you did it anyway. And you never once stopped to think that you might have gotten it wrong. No, saintly big brother never does anything wrong. You'd hit me before, sometimes I'd deserved it. You'd tried to kill me before. But nothing ever hurt me the way that did." Sam said, bitter tears streaming down his face.

"Oh Sammy..." Dean said softly, feeling his stinging jaw.

"I know I screwed up back then Dean. But you kept pulling away from me, and only really started to care again when I told you how I planned to stop Lucifer. It took two of us to wreck the world, and our relationship Dean. You dumping the amulet just proved to me that you didn't care about getting it back." Sam said, his voice betraying his tears.

Dean closed his eyes. Yeah, they had both screwed up back then. But while Sam had wanted to move past it, Dean had continually thrown it back at him, reminded him just how badly things had gone wrong, something he blamed him for. Dean had never wanted to admit that he was just as guilty as Sam had been, and had never missed the chance to blame him for what had happened.

Once more his double standards applied to everyone but himself.

"Sammy..." he said, and his brother looked at him with tear filled eyes.

"I want you to listen to me ok? Listen to me. I acted like a royal jerk back then. You were right, we both screwed up epically. We both screwed up our relationship pretty good too. You chose Ruby, I chose Cas, and we didn't choose each other, and that's where it went wrong. But what happened back then, with the amulet, that was simply me being hurt and lashing out. I didn't want to admit to myself how much we had both changed, how much we had pulled away from one another, how truly screwed up things had become for the two of us. How much I thought I had lost you, to the stage that I wasn't even in your memories. I never once thought about all the other times you had died, that it was dad you wanted away from, or how the way we treated each other back then might have affected what I saw. I have regretted throwing that away ever since. But we did become brothers again, before you told me your plan. I finally stopped feeling so sorry for myself, so miserable, and I decided to trust you, believe in you again. But I never once told you that that's why I killed that bastard Zachariah, because I finally forgave you for everything. I spent so long being mad at myself, and at you, I didn't realise how much I had lost until those memories. And I figured if that's how you felt, why should I care? Believe me Sam. If I could go back and do all of that again, I would in a heartbeat. I know you would too. But you'd focus on everything. I'd just focus on fixing us, because we both screwed ourselves over time and again back then, and we nearly lost each other. We hurt each other a lot, and you were too busy trying to fix the mess and I was too busy feeling sorry for myself that we didn't try to fix it, and eventually we both gave up. And I'm sorry for that Sam. I'm so sorry for that. I never should have done that. And above all, I never should have thrown away the amulet. It was petty, vindictive and cruel, and I've regretted it every day since I did it. And now I know how much it hurt you, I have a feeling I'm going to regret it ten times more." He said, and he was delighted to hear Sam give him a weak chuckle.

"Jerk." Sam said softly, and Dean smiled.

"Bitch."

"You really wish you hadn't done it?" Sam asked quietly, and Dean nodded.

"I've never regretted anything so much. Well, other than letting you get killed or trying to kill you myself, but that's different." He said airily, and Sam sniggered.

"Thanks Dean. I just thought..." he said, and Dean shook his head.

"No way Sammy. It was a jerk move, and I should never have done it. I did it to hurt you, to get back at you. I just, didn't think that it would hurt you so badly. I wish I still had the amulet, I miss it, it was, well it was us. I tried to touch it when I came to get you, you know. Didn't even realise I was doing it. I missed it every day since, and if I could get it back, I'd do it in a heartbeat." He said, not noticing the small smile on Sam's face.

They sat together for a while, Dean gently rubbing Sam's back, not aware he was even doing it, until another thought struck him.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"I have never, and never will, think that you are worthless. Ok? And if I ever hear you say you're worthless again, I will kick your ass, despite my promise." He growled fiercely, but it was fierceness that stemmed from his protective instinct in regards to Sam, that part that he had gained back, the part that was dedicated to protecting his little brother and making him happy, not fierceness from anger.

"Thanks Dean." Sam said softly, and Dean saw just how much his words had just meant to his little brother.

"Alright, now that we've deal with yet more emotional scars that I inflicted on you, how do we get out of this mess? We obviously can't overpower them, we wouldn't win in a fight." Dean said, and he watched in delight as Sam's brow started to furrow, like it always did when he was thinking. There were advantages to having a smarter brother than him, not that he'd admit it.

"Right. We can't escape, neither of us can move very far, and you'd scream like a girl if we met a snake, so that's out." He said, and Dean glowered at his baby brother.

"I wouldn't not scream like a girl if we met a snake thank you." He said tartly, vowing never to mention to Sam that he whimpered like a girl when he saw the snake on the way up here.

Sam grinned.

"Really? I remember I snuck a toy one in your bag once and you ran out of the room shrieking. Even dad laughed at you for that one." He reminisced, a wicked grin on his face, but Dean had developed a curiously apt case of deafness.

"Anyway, we can't run out. We can't overpower them. We also can't survive another round of torture. So...," Sam mused, and then his eyes lit up, "we die!"

Dean's hearing had suddenly returned, and he looked at Sam as though he was crazy.

"Uh Sammy...the idea is to survive, escape, then kill those bastards. Remember?" he asked, touching his brother's forehead to see if he had a fever or if he was still dehydrated, and Sam shoved his hand off his forehead, irritated by his brother's fussing.

"Listen to me. Walt and Roy are idiots, right?" he asked.

"Idiots who got the drop on me and you." Dean felt obliged to point out, and Sam flapped his better hand impatiently.

"Yeah, I know. But, thinking isn't their strong suit, they've shown that. Walt's got anger issues and Roy's too much of a sap. We take advantage of that." Sam explained, and Dean felt he was beginning to vaguely understand what he was getting at.

"You want us to fake our own deaths?" Dean asked suspiciously, and Sam shrugged.

"Well sort of. You kick up a fuss in the morning, claiming that I'm dead. Walt and Roy come down to check, we ambush them. I know we're wounded but they'll have just woken up, they'll be disorientated, sluggish. We attack them, turn the tables and make a break for it." Sam explained, and Dean supposed it would work, if they got very lucky.

"Yeah, but we're too weak to ensure they'll be out of the fight, and while I'd love nothing more than to dish out a little payback, I'd rather we get out of here and come back to deal with them another day, when we're the ones with the advantage." Dean said, and Sam grinned.

"Well, listen carefully, because I've got an idea."

XX

Dean didn't like the idea, and even Sam had to admit, he had had a lot of better ideas. But, it was the best they could do, and considering one of Dean's main objections was that he would have to do most of the work, they had little choice but to go through with it. Because after another hour or so, Sam had started to go incredibly pale, worrying Dean. They had to get a hospital soon, but if he didn't want to lose his little brother, he would have to do it even quicker, because he was sure he was developing a fever, a result of his wounds, the heat, and his dehydration.

Dean had slowly and carefully dragged himself out into the torture room that night, and was relieved to see that Walt and Roy were both sound asleep. But, the sun was starting to come up, and it was bad enough dragging him, he wouldn't be able to drag Sam when he was in a much weaker state than his big brother was. But thankfully, Dean didn't have to go far to find what he was looking for. Picking up two jagged shards of rock, he slithered back into their room, in preparation to make their move. First, he gave the obviously more nasty one to Sam, who was beginning to shake. He needed water more than anything. He was mired with grime and blood, stubble was growing on his face, his eyes were tired, his lips cracked, and his complexion was pale. Dean was slightly better off, but he knew this had to work first time, or else they would never get out of this alive. Clutching his shard up his sleeve, he looked to Sam, who nodded grimly, and turned his head away from the door, and Dean watched, alert for any signs his brother was 'still alive', and saw none.

"Here goes nothing." Dean said, and cleared his throat.

"Get your asses down here! Sam's stopped breathing!" Dean roared, sounding quite panicky if he did say so himself.

He continued to shout, and was rewarded a minute later by a furious Walt and a sleepy Roy barging down the stairs into the room.

"What the hell are you yelling about?" Walt demanded, smacking Dean across the head, making him curse.

"It's Sam, I couldn't wake him, and he's stopped breathing..." he breathed, eyes wild, secretly hoping they would take the bait, otherwise this would be a lot more dangerous, and they probably wouldn't make it.

Roy grabbed him by the front, his breath still smelling of booze, making Dean feel slightly sick.

"What did you do to him huh? Figured you'd deny Walt and I the pleasure?" he snarled, while Walt swore and went over to check on Sam.

"Of course not, he's my little brother you asshole, I couldn't kill him!" Dean protested, hoping they didn't know about Dillimore, and readying himself.

Walt kicked Sam, and received no response.

"Wake up you little shit, you don't get to die until I tell you!" he snarled, and rolled Sam over.

And Dean had never been so proud of his baby brother.

Sam rolled over, and with perfect precision, and a whole lot of venom, he stabbed upward with his shard of rock, plunging it right into Walt's eye. Walt gave a furious scream of excruciating pain, and as Roy turned to see what was going on, Dean drove his own shard into Roy's neck. Roy gagged as he flailed backwards, and Dean smacked him clean in the face with his good arm, knocking the wimpier hunter to the ground.

Sam was struggling to stand on his dodgy legs, while Walt screamed in pain, blood streaming from his face as he tried to pull the shard from his eye. Dean then seized the gun from Roy and fired, and Walt dropped, leaving Sam leaning against the wall while Roy groaned on the floor.

He didn't wait to see if he had killed him. He hoped not. He wanted to make that bastard suffer for all he had done to Sam, and he definitely didn't deserve a quick death. Dean hobbled over to Sam, the pain from all his wounds burning him up, and he threw his arm under Sam's, and the two of them began a quick hobble to the door, desperate to escape while they had the chance.

"He's not dead, you only clipped him." Sam said croakily as they left the torture table behind, entering into the rising sun of the ghost town.

"Good. I can kill the douchebag later." Dean said, his eyes growing in alarm as he saw what was in Walt's truck.

Gasoline. And a lot of it. Suddenly, it all made sense. They would have tortured them today, then had themselves a nice bonfire, with roasted Winchester the speciality.

"Those sick..." Dean finished with the word he knew Sam hated, and despite the pain his baby brother was in, he still received a very disapproving look from him.

They continued to hobble away, hoping they could find a cave for them to shelter in, and then finish the two hunters, or at least immobilise them. Sadly, the town was rather a long way from the slopes, and there was very little cover. It was also a hell of a longer walk when the two of them were injured. Dean was forcing Sam to move as quick as he could, but it was clear from his ashen expression that Sam couldn't last much longer without a break, and they didn't have long before Walt and Roy recovered.

"The truck?" Dean asked worriedly, and Sam nodded weakly.

They hobbled towards it, and Dean threw open the door, sticking his brother in the passenger side, and he quickly limped around the front of the truck and climbed in, fiery pain lancing up his leg as he did so. He started the ignition, and with a clank, the truck came to life.

"Dean, one shot from them, and we'll be barbecued." Sam said worriedly, his eyes closed against the pain he was in.

"Never mind Sammy." Dean assured him, and put his foot down, his leg protesting in pain as he did so.

The truck trundled forward, picking up speed as it made way away from the building they had been kept in. They were headed slowly towards the slope where Dean had climbed, when Sam, head rolling to try and distract himself from the pain, looked in the wing mirror, and saw Walt.

His face was covered in blood, his destroyed eye hanging from its socket, the shard still in it, his face a vicious expression of rage and hatred. There was blood trickling down his leg, but that didn't bother Walt. The truck was only beginning to get faster, and Sam knew instinctively that they were in severe trouble as he raised his rifle.

"Dean!" he cried, and Dean reacted immediately, sending the truck to the right, hoping to use the other buildings as cover.

The rifle emitted a bang, and suddenly, the truck began to spin around in a circle, the back tyre blown out through Walt's bad shot. Dean swore as he tried to get the truck under control, but it was too late, the truck was out of control, and heading towards the edge of the cliff, gaining speed as it found no traction on the soft sand.

"Dean!" Sam wailed as the truck spun towards a messy end.

"Hang on Sammy!" Dean cried, as the truck spun ever closer to the edge.

And then there was another bang. Just as the truck reached the edge of the cliff, and the truck suddenly felt weightless as it plummeted off the edge of the cliff, bound for the water below, picking up speed as it hurtled downwards, gravity aiding its fall. The tanks of gasoline flew into the air as it fell, and the two Winchesters looked at each other, gave each other nods, not needing to say anything as they descended towards the water. Sam quivered and Dean, uncharacteristically, reached across and clasped his hand.

And above them, a gasoline tank was ruptured by another furious bullet from Walt. There was an almighty explosion that lit up the entire area, a loud splash, and the world went quiet.

XX

Walt swore bitterly as he watched the flames from the explosion recede. The blasted Winchesters had destroyed his truck. At least now, at long last, they were now dead, and this time they wouldn't be coming back. If they hadn't been dead when the truck had hit the water, they'd have been immolated in the explosion.

They deserved no less. Apocalypse, lost hunters, Leviathans...none of them compared to what Sam had done to him. He had lost his eye because of him. And now the demonic little bastard would be burning in hell.

Roy would live, Dean hadn't driven the shard in far enough to kill him. But, it was a good thing everyone they cared about was dead. Or else Walt would have killed them too for what they had done to him. Him. The Winchesters had thought to get the better of him.

More fool they. No more would they mess up the world, or worse, make a fool of him. They were gone, for good.

And now, he would be credited as the best hunter in the world. Smiling grimly, he went to pick up Roy.

XX

Far below, flames licked the surface of the disturbed lake. A truck was bobbing up and down, full of water, and rocks had plunged into the water, creating a thick foam. But on the shore, a beaten and bloodied body rested. Dean slowly opened his eyes, immediately regretting it as the light from the fires burned them. Cursing, he pushed himself up, his body alive with pain, and looked at the lake, hearing the sirens as they approached. He had to get out of here.

But then, he noticed something. Something that made his heart stop as he did so. His breath hitched in his throat, his heart started pumping in alarm. He quickly scanned the beach he had drifted on to, seeing no signs of his baby brother. All encompassing fear gripped him. Surely they couldn't have just survived torture, a plunge of a cliff, an explosion, an avalanche and a crash into the water, only to lose Sam now.

There was no sign of Sam anywhere.

His brother wasn't there. His brother was gone. Dean felt a sickly taste in the back of his throat, but whether it was vomit or choked back tears, he didn't know. Tears began to stream down his face as he realised what he was seeing, what had happened, what he had lost.

Sam was gone.

**Hello again!**

**For those of you who were looking for me to update yesterday, I'm sorry. I was out weeding my aunts garden all day (the little shits spread like the plague), my legs are now killing me, and on a Wednesday I visit my other aunts for a much needed cup of tea, though I did start this chapter yesterday I ran out of time to finish it (and I was getting moaned at to turn the light off).  
**

**However, here I am with the latest chapter.  
**

**So, we have addressed the amulet problem and all is well again between the boys (or is it?), and hence Sammy's not quite so brilliant plan was hatched. But, Walt and Roy did suffer for what they've done, even though it was a harrowing escape from the two villains. Looks like Dean is lucky, but where is Sam? Is he alive? Is he alright?  
**

**All will be revealed in the last and final chapter. And I already know exactly what's happening in the next story too. All I will say is season 4 and season 7 both influence the next tale.  
**

**All being well this will be finished tomorrow, but as always, you know the drill, until then, please read and review!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural**

Misplaced Revenge

Dean pulled himself up. He had to find Sam. He couldn't lose him now, not when they were becoming such good brothers again. And if Walt and Roy had been responsible for Sammy's death, he would kill them both, then join his baby brother. This time there was no one else. If he lost him, that was it. No more. If he didn't have Sam, then what did he have?

He pulled himself away from where he had landed, hoping he was out of sight of the police rangers that were now dotting the bridge. Typically, they were where he wanted to go. If the police left, they would, eventually, be able to make it to their motel room, figure out how to get seen to without attracting too much attention...and then deal with Walt and Roy.

Dean hobbled away painfully, his knee howling in pain as he did so. He had to find Sam. He pulled himself away from where he would be seen, the last few moments before they had hit the water replaying in his mind. Sam had seen that Walt had managed to hit one of the gasoline tanks, knowing that if they didn't get out they would either be immolated or drowned. His little brother, despite the pain he was in, had launched himself at Dean, knocking the two of them out of the truck and splashing into the water just as the fireball rippled across the area and rocks started to fall.

Sam had saved him, despite all the pain that he had been in. He had pushed Dean out of the truck before they'd hit, and by so doing ensured that they survived. He had savd his big brother's life. Which left Dean all the more anxious to find his brother. After all, he was tallr, he might have hurt himself further on the way down, or might have been caught by the blast. But what if he hadn't gotten all the way clear? What if he was now at the bottom of the lake?

Dean's lip trembled at that thought. He couldn't be dead. Sam couldn't be dead. He was around here somewhere, and he had to find him. There was no way he could be gone, or trapped at the bottom of the lake with the truck...

"Sammy, you better be alright, or else I'll kick your ass. Come on baby brother, give me a clue here!" Dean pleaded desperately, hoping his brother would hear him wherever he was.

He rounded the corner to see a network of small caves cut into the cliff face.

"Sammy! Yeah, you have to be in one of them." Dean said hopefully, hobbling quicker than he ought to have done, as he fell down and swore before picking himself back up again.

There was nothing in the first cave, but fairly, Sam wouldn't have fit in there anyway with those ridiculously long legs of his. The second cave was also empty. After the fifth such letdown, Dean was once more beginning to panic. There was no sign of Sam anywhere. He had to be around here somewhere, because he absolutely refused to believe that his little brother had been killed in the crash. There was just no way. He had to be here somewhere.

"Sammy, I swear if you're on the bottom of that lake I'm about to join you." He growled as he looked into another cave, further round the shore, and screamed as he saw something move, fearing it was a snake.

Cursing his own stupidity when he saw it was a rat, Dean backed out of the cave, the last one on the shore. If he found no sign of Sam here, he would turn himself in, and hope beyond hope that the police had found Sam.

But he couldn't escape the dark thoughts that were in his head, the sick, leaden fear that he was alone in the world and that his baby brother was gone, gone saving him, a brutal irony considering what had happened with his own deal. He couldn't be dead. Sam wouldn't have left him all alone, he knew that. Sam knew how much Dean relied on him, the one last good thing in his life, and he refused to believe his little brother would leave him here all alone. Hell, Sam knew just what that did to the remaining brother, Dean's own death had seriously screwed up his little brother, so much that he went dark. No, Sam wouldn't leave him.

Dean continued to repeat this mantra, ignoring the sick cloying fear in his stomach, and the wicked little voice that was telling him that Sam was gone. Dean forced down angry and desperate tears and entered the last cave.

And his face split into a wide smile.

There was his baby brother. Unconscious, his wet hair plastered about his face, looking incredibly pale and worse for wear, but Sam was there. However, Dean's smile faded when he realised Sam wasn't breathing.

"No, Sammy, come on..." he said, crashing to his knees, suppressing a grunt of pain in the process, and pushing on Sam's chest to empty the water.

No response.

Dean repeated the process, but there was still no sign of life.

"No, don't you dare leave me Sam!" he growled, compressing his brother's chest once more.

Still no response.

Panic was filling Dean. He had to save Sam. His brother had to wake up. Dying had been what had sent their worlds to hell in the first place, they couldn't do it again. Dean vowed to himself that he would keep going until he got a sign of life from his little brother.

He compressed again and again, but Sam still remained deathly still.

"Come on Sammy...don't do this to me. Come on ginormo, wake up. Please Sammy?" Dean begged sadly, compressing one last time, fighting the tears out of his eyes.

There was still no response, and Dean breathed air into his brother's mouth, his last desperate hope.

And Sam coughed.

Dean got off his brother as Sam sat up slightly, throwing up nearly a litre of water, and continued to spit after it had emptied his mouth, coughing and wheezing weakly. He looked up at Dean feebly when he had finished, and the next thing he knew, Dean had seized him and wrapped his arms fiercely around his little brother, holding him close, closing his eyes in relief as he held his little brother.

"Dean? You're smooshing me." Sam protested feebly, and Dean let go, smiling in delight as his very much alive little brother rolled his eyes in amusement.

"I take it I wasn't doing so good?" he asked, and Dean nodded.

"You wouldn't wake up. I kept trying to empty your lungs but it wasn't working, you weren't waking up. And if you ever scare me like that again, I'll kill you." He snarled, swatting him lightly, and Sam smiled slightly as he avoided his brother's hand.

"Again?" he asked teasingly, and Dean had to turn away to suppress the grin. It was good that they could joke about killing each other again. Not so much when he was telling Sam off for frightening him, but still.

"Yes, again, and I'll do it properly this time. How you feeling?" he asked, dragging himself further into the cave, reducing the space between him and his brother, and without preamble Sam cosied up to his brother, still spitting experimentally, his face a grimace.

"I've had better days. You?" he asked, resting his head on the back of the wall as the rest of his gigantic body leaned against Dean's, and Dean could see how tired his brother looked, how beaten up he had been, and his anger against Walt intensified tenfold.

"Yeah, I've had better days too. The police are swarming over where the crash was, so we can't make a move until later ok? But right now, Walt and Roy think we're dead. So that'll make it all the sweeter when we go after them. Or do you not want me to go after them?" Dean asked, knowing how touchy his brother got about such things, he hadn't let Dean kill Becky after she had forced him to marry her, even though he had _so _wanted to.

Sam glared at him.

"Dean, the bastards kidnapped me, tortured me, then kidnapped you, tortured you, tried to kill the two of us and intended to barbecue us. Of course you can go and kill them, and I'll help." Sam said savagely.

"You sure? You're..." Dean began, but Sam cut him off with an amused expression.

"What? The sweet one out the two of us? I still am, doesn't mean I'm not going to help you make them suffer for what they did to us. Besides, the techniques you learned will be nothing compared to the ones I know." He said, and Dean went ahead without thinking.

"Sammy, I was tortured by the torturer of Hell. I think I have brutal know-how covered." He said, and Sam shot him a patient look.

"And I was tortured by the master of Hell and the former master of Heaven, both of whom happen to be enormous jackasses." He explained, and Dean blushed.

"Sam, I didn't think, I'm sorry, I..." he stuttered, refusing to believe he had just implied that his stay in Hell had been worse than Sam's.

Sam waved off his apology sleepily, and leaned his head down to settle on Dean's shoulder.

"So we wait till the police get bored and head for the hospital?" he asked, and Dean shook his head.

"No, we go to the motel first. Some of our injuries can be taken care of there, and besides, I want you to get some decent drinking water." Dean said, noting the pale blue lines around Sam's mouth worriedly.

"Dean...," Sam moaned, but then started trying to spit something up again, "ok, maybe you're right. The water I swallowed when we landed tastes awful. All gasoliney." He lamented, and Dean grinned at the word Sam had just invented.

"Well to be fair, there's now gasoline, rust and blood all through it, and that's just some of the stuff we added to it. Thank you, by the way." He said softly, and Sam looked at him in confusion, his right eye opening to look at him questioningly.

"For what?" he asked, and Dean frowned a little, worried he had bumped his head in the crash.

"Shoving me out of the truck before we hit the water. You saved me remember?" he asked, and Sam nodded in realisation.

"Oh that. You're welcome. I wondered what you were talking about. Alright, before I fall asleep, what's the plan?" he asked, yawning widely.

Dean looked at the cave. It was relatively deep, and it gave them enough light to see by. They would also be in shade a lot of the day, which could only benefit the two of them after everything they had been through. Come nightfall, they could make a break for the motel, and tend to themselves, see what they could do to fix themselves. And then they could deal with Walt and Roy.

"We stay here, get some sleep, wait until nightfall. I don't want anyone seeing my gorgeous face in this state before then." He said, smiling and could almost hear Sam roll his eyes beneath his eyelids.

"Then, we start fixing ourselves up ok?" he continued, but it was too late as Sam's breathing had already slowed and he was sleeping peacefully on Dean's shoulder.

Dean smiled a little and closed his own eyes, drifting off to sleep seconds later.

XX

It took them over an hour to travel the distance from the cave to the motel, when on a normal day, it would only have taken ten minutes at most.

They had set out after a good eight or so hours sleep, and despite the pain their bodies were in, which also had muscular pain to contribute to it now too, they were feeling a little better. Though Dean had had vivid dreams of Sam, either drowned in the bottom of the lake, tortured to death or for some reason killed in a sandstorm. Waking up immediately after the dream, he had woken Sam, who had had a perfectly dreamless sleep, and they had begun dragging themselves in the direction of the motel, which was connected to the bridge that crossed the lake. An hour later, in the cooling night, they had finally reached the road and hobbled over it, and after a tense few minutes with their room door, Dean had finally gotten them into the room.

The first order of business was to deal with any lingering effects of dehydration, so Dean, after lowering himself gingerly onto his bed, watched as Sam sipped his cup of water, and made him replenish it at least three times before he began to drink himself. He then told Sam to hold still while he went about fixing up what he could do.

Which would be a lot easier if his little brother wasn't a mess.

He started by making Sam take a long hot shower, and once he had done, Dean begin to tenderly deal with the wounds. Using one of their numerous first aid kits, he bandaged up each lost nail, making him look vaguely like a cartoon character. Unable to do much else, he put small strips of plaster on the cuts on his face before moving on to the rest of the damage. He put an ice pack on Sam's sprained ankle, knowing they would need a hospital for the broken bones, and he also gave him another ice pack to try and reduce the friction burn on his neck.

When Dean got to the lash scars on Sam's back, his hands trembled so much that he crushed the glass he was holding to give to Sam, dribbling the dregs of the water on the floor. He then attended to them, salving the wounds and cleaning them, hating the hissing sounds of pain Sam made while he did so. The same was true for the cuts on his front, and that was made worse by the fact that he could see Sam's pain filled eyes as he did so. Dean also bandaged up Sam's peeled arm, something that almost made him sick, and Sam was starting to cry with the pain as he did so. However, after that, Dean could do very little else. He had a broken pinky, a damaged knee, a dislocated shoulder and a broken wrist, but aside from that he was slightly better off than he had been the day before. And that of course meant that it was Dean's turn.

And Dean wasn't nearly as patient, tolerant or accommodating as Sam had been, jerking away whenever his brother did anything after he came out of the shower. Sam quickly got exasperated but persevered, attending to the cuts and bruises, wrapping up the lost fingernails and even examined the inside of Dean's mouth to check the missing teeth. His shoulder was also dislocated, but he was in slightly better shape than Sam, other than the broken kneecap, as Sam's felt slightly less damaged. But, eventually after much patience from Sam, a lot of wincing and retreating from Dean and a death threat against Dean if he dared bite Sam's finger while he checked the lost teeth, he too was soon a lot better off.

Aside from the broken bones and their rumbling stomachs.

"But Sammy, I'm starving! Someone didn't bring me pie!" Dean wailed, smirking, knowing it would annoy his brother.

Sam gave him a mock glare, and Dean was relieved to see that the bruises around his eyes were already going down.

"Sorry. Next time I get kidnapped I'll just ask them to hold off while I deliver you your pie will I? I'm hungry too, I haven't eaten since before we ganked the ghost. But you're the one who said we should go to the hospital, so we can go there first. Then we can get food." He said patiently.

"That's provided I can still eat normal food. Why is it every time we get tortured, I lose teeth?" he asked, checking his reflection. If he couldn't get a double bacon cheeseburger with extra fries, he was going to become even more unpleasant towards Walt and Roy than he already intended.

"Count your blessings, every time something bad happens I usually get strangled." Sam grumbled, and Dean looked at his brother, slightly concerned as his eyes took in the dying friction burn on his neck.

"Yeah, remind me once we're fixed to teach you how to get out of a stranglehold." He said, more teasing than worried, and ducked when Sam threw the remote at him.

Dean winced as he finished his hair.

"There. Horribly tortured, but still ruggedly handsome." He crowed, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Not to forget charmingly modest too." He said scathingly and Dean laughed.

The trip to the hospital was unpleasant, and it was very difficult to answer the questions the doctors put to them as to how they had come to be in the mess they were in. However, after realising that the brothers were not particularly forthcoming about how they had come to be in the state they were, they had gone about their jobs, and the two of them felt a lot better for it. Their knees would both be fine and everything else would fix itself or grow back eventually. As a result, the two of them were now sitting in the diner, Sam with a chicken salad, and Dean with a double bacon cheeseburger, which he had been relieved to find out he could eat normally as well.

Sam stroked his hair behind his ear, glad it was back to its usual way. They had both been given painkillers, and thankfully everything was becoming a lot clearer, he wasn't in pain as much anymore and his minor wounds were well on the mend.

"I still can't believe you can eat that crap. We're about to go hunting." Dean commented, as he chewed on a chip.

"I know we are Dean. But we can't do much like this anyway, we need to wait until we heal up a little. And we have to be careful, the sheriff is suspicious of us as it is, she doesn't buy our explanation that we were mugged, and I can't really blame her. Anyway, how do we intend to hunt down Walt and Roy anyway? I mean I want them dead as much as you do, but it'll be a lot more difficult to track them now that their truck is a fish retirement home." Sam cracked, and Dean grinned a little.

"Will you relax? We'll find them in due time. Look, the two assholes think we're history. My bet is, they'll be crowing to anyone and everyone they meet that the killed us. So we just follow the rumours." Dean said patiently, chomping on his burger, and Sam turned away, slightly disgusted by his brother's display.

"Dean?" he asked after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for trying to rescue me." He said quietly, and Dean grinned.

"Any time little brother. But next time we go somewhere, I'm the one going out. Every time you get sent to the store, you either get kidnapped, killed or both. Anyway, it was you who got us out of there, saved us both. We're even." Dean said, and Sam smiled.

Their bones were slowly healing, and they were finally back on the road, following the rumours of where Walt and Roy had gone. As Dean had predicted, the two of them had indeed been bragging to all and sundry about their murder of the Winchesters, and Dean hadn't liked the rumour one bit. Apparently, Walt and Roy had elaborated on the tale, to say that Sam had been begging for mercy and crying for his big brother, and that Dean had claimed he would do anything to save his brother.

While both brothers knew the latter was probably true, the rest of the rumours that Walt and Roy had fuelled had been nothing more than character assassination. Sam was endlessly amused by how personal Dean was taking the insults to their prowess, but at long last, they were on the right track. A small town built around a caravan resort seemed to be where their two would-be murderers had headed last, and Dean was confident that they would finally catch up with them. It was time to end this. No more would hunters come after them after this. And they would soon learn just how dangerous Dean Winchester could be. He had warned them, the last time, that when he came back, he was going to be pissed.

Pissed now didn't even begin to cover it. For everything they had done to Sammy, nearly killing him, they would certainly pay. And pay very dearly.

The two boys were virtually fully healed by the time they arrived in Angel Pine, though Dean's knee was still a little stiff. And on the drive there, their banter and arguing over Dean's music had transformed into something cold and deadly. This was more than what they became when on a hunt.

This was what they became when it was personal and they were out for revenge.

Stepping out of the range rover that Sam had stole to give both of their knees more opportunity to heal, they pulled into the town.

"Dean." Sam whispered as they parked, pointing to a large van much like Bobby's had been, which they had learned nearly certainly belonged to Walt and Roy.

"Good. Right, time to make ourselves inconspicuous. We need to do this right, otherwise they'll just come back and try again one day. No, they go down. I did warn them I'd be pissed." Dean snarled, and he and Sam checked into the motel that they had parked near.

After checking at the desk, Dean and Sam had found that their prey was indeed in the same motel. They had them at last. After over three weeks of chasing down every lead possible, they finally had Walt and Roy where they wanted them.

The two of them stayed in their room, listening intently all night, and sure enough, at the back of two in the morning, Walt and Roy staggered drunkenly into the motel and towards their room. Time to act.

Sam slipped out into the pitch black night, and carefully cut a tiny slash into each tyre on Walt and Roy's van. That meant that they shouldn't be going anywhere. And indeed, watching silently from their room, they saw the hungover form of Roy lamenting to the more hungover and one eyed form of Walt that their tyres had been slashed, and it would take a while for them to be fixed. They were stuck there.

After closely following the two all day, Sam and Dean finally tracked them to the bar at the edge of the town, a place they knew hunters frequented, seeing as how it was virtually on the road. Both of them clothed themselves in dark colours, and Sam pulled his hood up as part of his hoody, and the two of them entered the bar, barely attracting a glance as they did so, and sat down in the far corner, waited for their beers to be delivered, and they sat, watching as Walt and Roy regaled several other hunters with the last stand of the Winchesters.

"You should have heard him! Begging us not to hurt his little brother. 'Oh please, I'll do anything, just don't hurt Sammy, I can't bear it if you hurt Sammy!'" Walt mimicked in a childlike voice, and Roy guffawed stupidly beside him.

Sam sent Dean a warning look, and his brother simmered down, though it was clear he wanted to launch himself at the pair and kill the two of them where they stood.

"Personally, I don't see what you did that's so good." An older, rotund, moustachioed hunter commented idly.

Walt turned to glare at him.

"We took down the Winchesters! Show us some respect!" he spat angrily.

Roy glowered at the older man.

"The Winchesters were known as the best in the business. And it was us who took them down. Maybe you should remember that." He said warningly, swigging his whisky.

"Yeah, they were. And you killed them. Simply because you could." The older man said irritably, and some of the other hunters in the bar nodded.

Walt slammed his hand into the bartop.

"We killed them because they deserved it! They started the Apocalypse! You can't do something like that and think you can get away with it. We made them pay." He snarled, and a younger man shook his head in disgust.

"Yeah, they may have started it, but they finished it. Poor Sam Winchester got trapped by Lucifer himself to stop it. He sacrificed himself for the rest of the world. How the hell do you justify killing someone who did that?" he asked angrily.

"The Winchesters had it coming! How many of us are dead because of them? They killed Gordon Walker, and here you all are defending them!" Walt spat angrily, not seeming to understand why the other hunters were less than impressed with their actions.

"Yeah, but Gordon Walker brought that on himself, he became a vampire. Sam did what any of us would have done. And they didn't know about their angel friend betraying them. And he nearly killed Sam." A middle aged woman pointed out.

Over in the corner, Sam and Dean were grinning at each other. Even 'dead', their legend lived on.

"The Winchesters were the best hunters there were. They took down a hell of a lot of nasties, averted the Apocalypse, and you two jackasses go and kill them just because you could. And you didn't even give them a fair fight. You kidnap the youngest, torture him, then do the same to the oldest. That aint anything to boast over. That's something to be ashamed of." The moustached hunter growled menacingly.

"What the hell is wrong with you people? The Winchesters got people like us killed, started the Apocalypse, set Eve loose and let the Leviathans run rampant! They were virtually demonic, and here you all are praising them! We killed the bastards! The arrogant little shits who thought they were the best, but they weren't. We killed them. They made a fool of us once before, and then we killed them. We showed them who was boss. You ought to be thanking us on bended knee!" Walt roared, standing furiously.

The woman dropped her hand to her denim covered hip, fingering for her gun.

"What, thank you for murdering two well meaning kids who have done more to try and piss off evil than the rest of us combined? Thank you for torturing the two best hunters in the trade to death because of some petty feud? I don't think so. Yeah, they screwed up at times, but they always cleared up the mess. Damn good hunters, and you cowards killed them." She snarled dangerously.

"Marge is right. You didn't kill them for any noble reason. You killed them to get even with them for making a fool of you last time. You saw an excuse and took it. And now, these Leviathans that are running round, how we meant to stop them? No hunter will know. Other than those two. But wait, you killed them." The moustached one growled, and Walt and Roy looked at him incredulously.

"Not so long ago you were advocating killing them!" Roy protested.

"Yeah, but Billy didn't know then what we know now. We didn't know they were trying to fix everything, that they would fix everything. They saved the world...and then a few years later, after everything they've done, even for cowards like you, you kill them simply because you can." The youngest hunter said.

"Dean and Sam Winchester are dead! They aren't the best hunters in the world. If they were, they'd still be alive. But they're not. We killed them. I killed them. Screaming little Sammy and crying big brother Dean. I immolated them in that truck of mine they stole. They were begging for mercy all the while we had them. They were the cowards! Who the hell do you think you are, judging us? We're the heroes! The two of them, whining and crying for us to spare them, saying they were sorry. We did the right thing! Now, they're smouldering in their graves, and we're the best hunters in the world. So deal with it, and start thanking us!" Walt roared and he and Roy both drew their guns, though Roy was looking terrified as he watched Walt point his gun at the youngest.

"Get that away from Danny." Marge growled, as the other hunters in the bar all went for their guns.

"You know, I never did like you Walt. You and your little puppet Roy, who clearly has no brains and no balls. If we knew what you planned to do to those Winchester kids, we'd have stopped you." Billy said, levelling his gun.

Roy however suddenly seemed to develop a brain, and noticed that there were over twelve guns pointed at him and his partner.

"You're a psycho. Sam and Dean made a fool of you, and you wanted to get back at them, so you took any excuse. You're filthy. You're the demons here." Danny snarled, quickly drawing his own gun.

"What the hell are you talking about? The Winchesters only ever wrecked things! We saved the world by killing them! They can't endanger us anymore. So, apologise to us now, buy us a drink, and we'll forget all about it!" Walt howled furiously.

"And though they wrecked things, they also did a hell of a lot more fixing. They're the best hunters in the world, even dead. They fixed every mess they caused, and a lot of it weren't their fault, it was their damn father's, or some other power. And now who's going to fix the Leviathans? Not us, we don't know what we're doing. And they won't even bother to eat you, they'll just throw you out like the trash they are." Raman, another hunter condemned.

"We're the best hunters in the world! Show some respect!" Walt yelled, and actually stomped his foot, making Dean suppress a snigger, and Sam had to stop a laugh. And he had claimed they were pathetic. They would never lower themselves like that.

"What, for killing the Winchesters? No. That makes you the worst scumbags in the world. You went rogue. And now, you need to face the consequences." A young girl called Diamond said, her own gun pointing at the two hunters, who thought they ought to be heroes but were instead being treated like villains.

"Walt, let's get out of here." Roy said, seeing every eye in the room narrowed in hatred.

"No! We'll get what's our due! We're heroes Walt! We stopped the Winchesters, and this lot think we did a bad thing. Let me tell you about your precious Winchesters. They screamed, they begged for mercy on bended knee, all to stop us hurting them, and we killed them anyway! They were evil and deserved what they got! Fucking thank us already! We're your heroes, you should be thanking us! Why aren't they thanking us?" Walt screeched hysterically, and the entire bar was exchanging concerned looks.

"Walt, let's go." Roy intoned.

"No! Not until they admit we did what was right, that we got those kids back. They screwed us over and made a fool of us! They deserved it!" Walt protested, and Billy and Marge looked at each other and nodded.

If they didn't act, Walt and Roy would be dead soon. And not by their hand. Dean and Sam got up.

"Walt, we need to go! They don't understand like I do! Let's just go!" Roy begged meekly, tugging at his partner.

"No! We're the best hunters in the world. We're alive, the Winchesters are dead, they should be praising our name! Thank us! Admit we did the right thing, that we're the heroes who saved the world! We're the best hunters, not the Winchesters. They're dead, we killed them! Admit we're better than them!"" Walt screamed, his eye mad, pointing his gun at Marge now.

"You know, you keep saying you're the best hunters in the world. That the Winchesters are dead. That you're better than them. We might have something to say about that." Dean growled menacingly as he stood behind Walt, pressing his gun into his head.

The entire bar turned in shock as Dean stepped out of the shadows and Sam lowered his hood, and suddenly a smell emitted from Walt that made Dean wrinkle his nose. Sam then stuck his own gun under Roy's jaw, and he saw a puddle develop on the floor at Roy's feet.

"No, no, no, no! It can't be! You're dead! We killed you! I killed you!" Walt wailed hysterically as Billy happily turned him round to see his captor.

"Yeah. We couldn't resist screwing you over one last time Walt. What's the matter boys? You look like you've seen a ghost." Sam said with a smug, teasing smile, and he was gratified as both their would be killers started shaking with fear.

"I killed you!" Walt roared desperately, and Dean grinned.

"Nah, you didn't. You tortured us, yeah. But kill us, not this time. We're so much better than you. Did you tell anyone how you lost your eye? How a beaten and broken kid could take the eye of such a big bad hunter?" Dean asked in a baby voice and Walt gulped.

"Look boys, what happened, we made a mistake, we shouldn't have-" Roy protested, until Sam punched him in the mouth.

"Don't insult our intelligence. Your little hand here knew what he was doing, and so did you, his little puppet. Like Rod Hull and Emu. But you're both as stupid as each other." He snarled.

Dean gave Walt a very dangerous, very scary smile.

"Did you actually think we wouldn't come back? Did you think you could get away with what you did to us? I warned you once before. I said that when I came back, I was going to be pissed. I was. Now, I'm beyond pissed. You kidnapped my baby brother, tortured him, then did the same to me, and tried your hardest to kill us both. But you screwed it up. And now, you're going to pay." He purred, and Walt squeaked in terror.

"Please Sam, I didn't hurt you." Roy pleaded, and Sam kneed him in the groin, making him wheeze.

"Shut it. You're just as bad as he is. And even more stupid. Did you think we would let you away with what you did?" he asked simply, and the two hunters looked at each other, shivering in fear.

"Can I say how happy we are to see you boys?" Marge asked with a smile.

"See Walt? That's what the best hunters in the world look like." Billy said cheerfully, nodding respectfully to Dean and Sam.

"Thanks guys for everything. Now, us and our buddies here, are going to take a little stroll together. And once we do, you won't be seeing them again. Anyone got any objections?" Dean asked, glaring at Walt in disgusted contempt.

"Will it hurt?" Danny asked.

"Oh yes." Sam promised, giving Roy a knowing smile, and the other hunter groaned.

"Good." Danny said cheerfully.

"And if anyone else ever thinks about coming after me or Sammy, if another hunter so much as hurts a hair on his head, the same thing will happen to you. Spread the word would you guys?" Dean asked, and Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's protectiveness.

It made it a little hard to be macho when your big brother was warning everyone present not to dare hurt his brother. But Walt and Roy were both beginning to hyperventilate, the smell emitting from both of them and the two of them looking at each other fearfully, knowing that their time was running out.

"Got it." Billy said, and all the other hunters nodded.

"Good. Now, we're going to have a little chat." Dean said, indicating that Walt should move, and the one eyed hunter was crying in fear as he moved towards the door.

"Oh and thanks for all the confidence guys." Sam said cheerily, shoving Roy brutally towards the door.

"Good riddance to those cowards!" Raman said in approval.

"That Walt, is what a real hero looks like. It hasn't been a pleasure." Diamond purred, winking at Sam, who blushed a little.

"Have fun boys. Give em hell." Billy encouraged.

"Don't worry. They're about to get lessons in just how bad hell really is." Dean vowed with a snarl, and Walt and Roy both scurried outside to throw up in fear.

And as Sam and Dean followed their prisoners through the door, the entire bar burst into cheers and applause.

Sam and Dean grinned at each other, while Walt and Roy cried in terror.

XX

"Please, we'll do anything! Anything!" Walt howled across the night air from the top of the mountain.

"No, please, I'm begging you!" Roy screamed, his voice echoing.

"I did warn you I'd be pissed." Dean snarled darkly.

"And Lucifer could also do this to me too...but you don't think that that's that bad do you? After all, I wasn't with him nearly long enough." Sam commented conversationally.

"Mercy! Mercy!" Walt howled.

"Just kill us please!" Roy begged.

"Mercy? Not from me. Not for what you did to Sammy." Dean growled.

"Oh, and a word to the wise...you want mercy? Don't kill and try to kill the person you want it from, and above all else, don't do it to their brother." Sam advised sinisterly.

XX

The front page of the local newspaper was very interesting when Sam picked it up at the store, Dean hovering around in the beer aisle looking for a post victory six pack he and Sam could decimate later. He obviously meant that he wasn't going to let him go to the store alone anymore. He wondered how long it would be before his brother drove him crazy.

The paper read: **Horribly Mutilated Bodies Discovered in Blazing Inferno Van**

"Hmm, wish we'd had marshmallows." Dean commented as he saw the page, and Sam grimaced slightly.

"Hmm, thorough reporters. They mention that there were traces of salt in the cabin with the bodies." He commented, and Dean smiled.

"Yeah. Don't worry Sammy. Walt and Roy are dead. And we made sure that they will never come back." He assured his little brother, who smiled.

It was over. They were free. Walt and Roy would never endanger them again. They had deserved everything that had given them and more. And they had learned the hard way what they should have known just through myth and legend: don't piss off the Winchesters.

And best of all, no one had any idea who the victims were or who could have done it.

"You know, if Roy had a pair of balls, he might not have had to die." Dean commented, and Sam grinned at their private joke.

"Very true. Walt too." He said, and Dean left him to pay, while he went outside.

Sam picked up one last item, paid for their items and joined his brother outside.

"Here." He said, and Dean's eyes widened in delight as he saw what Sam was holding out to him.

Apple pie. And he'd bought custard too.

"Sammy, you're the best." He said happily as they climbed into the car.

"I know. But seriously Dean. Thanks, for coming after me and everything." He said, fishing in his pocket for something.

"Sammy, forget it ok? You're my brother. I was always going to come after you." He assured him, starting the car.

Sam smiled.

"By everything I meant our talk too." He said, and Dean nodded.

"Well, you're welcome." He said, eyes looking longingly at the pie he would have to wait until the next motel to eat.

"And I got you something else. Well, found it actually." Sam said, taking Dean's hand with his own and dropping something into it.

Dean looked down at his hand, and his jaw slowly dropped in surprise.

It was his amulet.

"You-you kept it?" Dean asked weakly, looking at it eagerly, hardly believing what he was seeing and Sam nodded, smiling shyly.

"Yeah. I took it out when you left the room back then. I hoped one day, you might, you know...want it back." He finished softly, and Dean grinned.

"Thanks Sammy." He said, and slipped the amulet onto his neck, and Sam finally felt like everything was the way it ought to be.

A hunt over. Pie and beer. The two brothers the happiest they had been in ages. And the amulet back where it belonged, around his brother's neck.

Their lives sucked at times.

But today, it rocked.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand. And you can even choose the music. But no Abba!" Dean warned with a grin, and Sam snorted in amusement.

"Please. I heard you this morning, singing 'Waterloo' to yourself in the shower." He said, plugging his iPod in.

"I was not!" Dean protested, but the large smile on his face made it impossible for Sam to believe he was even remotely offended by the accusation.

Dean watched his brother as he looked through his music, settling for Meat Loaf. He could cope with that he supposed. Close to rock, and not at all a bad song. Dean grinned, and resolved to hug Sam when they got to their destination for what he'd done. Smiling, he put his foot down, he and Sam both singing to themselves in the front of the car, the amulet bouncing around Dean's neck where it belonged, and Sam right beside him, where he belonged, as they streaked out of the town for their next job.

In the back seat, Bobby, also cheerfully singing along to 'Bat Out of Hell', snorted in amusement as he watched the two boys. His two boys.

"_Heh. Edjits_." He said cheerfully, as Dean took the car to the motorway, the three occupants of the car cheerfully singing away.

**The end!**

**Sorry for those who were worried about Sam at first. I originally considered him just sitting in the cave, waiting for Dean, but I think Dean might have been slightly miffed if he'd done that.  
**

**A little grizzly towards the end, but all of you wanted something nasty to happen to our two villains, and so it did.  
**

**Well I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as you seemed to enjoy Demon Drink, I certainly enjoyed writing it!  
**

**Our two boys are going from strength to strength, and don't worry, I hope to be back tomorrow with yet another Supernatural story. And the enemy in the next one has already been touched upon...  
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**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this, I know I did, thank you for all the lovely reviews and correspondences (oh for those of you wondering, Sam's hair was returned to normal after his dip in the lake, sad though it was to me), and please dont stop reviewing, so hopefully until tomorrow, please read and review, and I will see you all soon!  
**

**P.S The dream of Sam being caught in the sandstorm, you can attribute to doyleshuny, she told me about Jared Padalecki being in Flight of the Phoenix and I just bought it today  
**


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